


Learning To Love

by LadyReeseKightkens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Marriage Law Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 131,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyReeseKightkens/pseuds/LadyReeseKightkens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Marriage Law Fanfic- A new law pairs two unlikely characters in the most undesirable match possible. The two must navigate this arranged marriage to not only survive, but keep their sanity as well. Warning: Long fiction, slow development, AU with a few characters who survived. Rated M for language, adult situations, and other serious content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfiction and I am really excited to get it out there. This story has originally started on FanFiction.net, but I decided I wanted to expand to the AO3 Universe as well. I am trying update simultaneously, but being new to posting, it might take a while for me to get it all right. I apologize in advance :-/
> 
> Anyway, please feel free to leave comments on the story. I love constructive feedback, so I only ask that you don't be rude (ex: "This fucking sucks", "You suck", etc). Let me know what you did or didn't like and why. I can't fix my writing if I don't know what the problem is. Just let me know what you think!

"This is outrageous!" My brother exclaims as he throws down the Prophet at breakfast.

The picture of Umbridge smiling broadly and waving flashes up from the table as the jug of pumpkin juice topples over drenching the table. The paper blurs under the liquid, but the picture of Umbridge continues to wave and smile sickeningly. Ron looks only moments away from setting fire to it before Hermione speaks up.

"Of course it is," Hermione snaps. She snatches up a book from being ruined in the river of juice flowing down the table. Flicking her wand to clean up the mess, she says, "The ramifications of war is always a difficult struggle. Did you honestly believe that the world would go back to how it was before _He_ returned?"

Ron looks away in frustrated and shrugs. Harry decides to respond for him. "Well, no we didn't think that. But a marriage law? You knew there would be a law forcing us to get married?"

Hermione shakes her head and clarifies, "Not specifically that, no. War has serious consequences which is why it shouldn't be taken lightly. I mean, the most terrible wizard of all time is gone, but there is still so much recovery needed from the damage he caused. We lost a lot of people, children were orphaned, the economic system is on the verge of collapsing, and we are all scarred in one way or another. This law is just the first of many."

"But marriage and what do they call it," Ron says reaching for the paper again before reading, "Oh, here, 'required procreation'. They are going to force us to shag once a week? I don't need the ministry getting involved in our bloody sex life."

His voice carries across the table and I can see a few of the professors giving a look in our direction, giving me the feeling they didn't quite hear what was said but that they definitely caught the word "sex". Along with Hermione, a few of the younger kids at the table go pink at Ron's proclamation.

"Ron," she hisses trying to look casual. I roll my eyes in disgust and push my food away. It is already awkward having your brother and best friend dating, but the thought of them...doing that...is enough to make me lose my appetite.

She gives him a stern look continues in a low voice, "I don't think the ministry has any right to be in our business either, but now, they are going to."

"Well, I guess this is the end," Ron grumbles. "Save the bloody world and this is how they reward us. This is the worst thing ever."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you stop that tone right now," Hermione reprimands causing him to turn the same shade of crimson as his tie. "We are lucky. Lucky to have each other. Lucky your sister and Harry are together. Lucky that none of us are in that wretched lottery. Not all of our friends have someone. I can't even imagine how they are going to deal with this."

"Our friends? Hermione, this law includes all of us! We aren't exempt from anything more than the lottery!" Everyone turns and stares at me. Blurting out my thoughts wasn't my intention, but now the rest of the table goes silent and I can see Harry blush. I realize that I sound selfish saying this out loud, but I don't really regret saying it. I love my friends, but I didn't survive the greatest war in wizarding history just to be enslaved by our own Ministry.

"Yes, our friends," Hermione says dropping her voice so only the four of us can hear. "Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Hannah, and all the others that are single at this very moment. They have a single week to find someone. Some of them will pair off just to avoid the lottery, but that doesn't guarantee that they will find happiness or be able to remain friends once they add a child to the mix." Hermione gives a stern look to signal the end of the conversation as the boys move the topic to Quidditch.

She throws me a quick glance, but I just stare at my plate guiltily because we both know she is right. My brother and her realized after the war that life was too short to wait on love and immediately got engaged. Of course, Hermione wanted to come back to Hogwarts to finish her education, so they put the wedding plans on hold until then. Ron didn't want to come back to school, but when Harry and Hermione decided to return, it was only natural for him to come as well. That's the Golden Trio for you.

And then there is Harry and I. It broke my heart when he left the Burrow to search for the damned Horcruxes, but as the dutiful girlfriend, I was understanding. I know he had to do it for the greater good, but the selfish voice inside me was pained all those months as I returned to school and tried to survive the terror each day. The atmosphere of school helped keep my mind alert, but every morning I dreaded opening the Daily Prophet to a headline of "Potter Dead, Dark Lord Reigns." But the moment the battle ended and he took me in his arms, I thought, for just a moment, the world was going to be alright.

How wrong I was.

Harry was immediately whisked off by the Ministry. Kingsley took over the as Minister of Magic and the world learned the truth of what happened over the last several years. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the summer practically sleeping at the Ministry because of all the trial and inquisitions they had to testify at.

But Harry especially made it his mission to make sure that Professor Snape and the Malfoys stayed out of Azkaban, so he spent the most time away from the Burrow answering questions. Personally, I would have loved to beg him to send the whole lot of Malfoy's to prison, but I know I had no right to ask that of him.

Truthfully, I am glad he testified for Snape. When Harry told me about the pensieve he saw, I knew that his testimony was the right thing to do, even if Snape is cruel, snide and forgets his manners. While he was unconscious in the hospital wing, Harry visited him all the time. Sometimes I came with him, but it made me uneasy when he would thrash about in some nightmare. It was a relief when Harry told me he finally woke up.

And then of course came the press. Everyone wanted to know all about the boy I love. He was bombarded everywhere he went by people. People wanted his autograph, a picture, or even a handshake as they cried telling him how they believed in what he was doing. I'm really glad that the fame doesn't go to his head. If he wasn't at the Ministry, he was doing conferences or attending fundraisers to help with war efforts.

All I wanted was to spend my summer with him just picking up where we left off, but that just wasn't possible. So instead, my summer was dedicated to my mother. I think she took my brother's death the hardest. It broke my heart everyday to see her sitting at the kitchen table with a forgotten cup of tea just staring blankly out the window. It was almost as if she was listening for the familiar popping and crackling that use to come from their room for so many years. So I picked up the slack and began taking care of the house as best I could.

And now, here I am, sitting here looking at my breakfast trying to keep from crying. Harry and I know that we want to be together, but we have so much work to do on our relationship. How can I marry him when we have just barely begun to scratch the surface of what we could possibly be together. I wanted to come back to Hogwarts and shut the world out. I want to play Quidditch with Harry, laugh with Hermione over the rumors that fly through our common room, and sit by the lake every Saturday with Harry if only for the purpose of making up for lost time. But this law will not allow this to happen.

"It's going to be alright, Ginny," Hermione leans over and whispers to me. I look up and see her smiling as she continues, "I know you and Harry are rekindling your relationship, but there is no doubt in my mind that you both were meant to be together. Forever."

"I know," I say feeling childish, "It is just a shock. I am grateful that I do have Harry, but I just thought I had more time to- " I can't finish the statement. More time for what? To hesitate over my decision to be with him? Certainly not. To get to know him? Maybe. But I know what my selfish side says- I want more time to be independent and live my own life. That one single thought is miserable.

"I get it," Hermione agrees softly. "Like I said, this is only the beginning. But this law is too controversial. I think the world will realize how extreme it is and try to appeal it. I already plan on taking the next month to try to figure out a way to get this overturned. You are welcome to help if it makes you feel better." She gives me a reassuring smile.

That is the Hermione I know. She is only a year or so older, but sometimes she has the wisdom of Dumbledore. She is determined and confident and always know when to say the right thing. I wish I was more like her.

Suddenly, she looks at the boys and then at her watch exclaiming, "Look, I have to get to Arithmancy right now, but you and I can talk later in our room. We'll get through this. I promise." I give her a small smile. It is times like these when I remember why she is my best friend.

Knowing there is no way I am going to be able to stomach anything else, I gather my stuff and bid the boys goodbye. This is going to be a long day.

* * *

My Daily Prophet arrives as it always does- just as I sit down in my office to finish grading the second year's essays on poisons. That particular class is quite arrogant in their skills so I make sure to pay extra attention to their essays for the slightest flaws. It is quite tedious, so I force myself to ignore the paper until I either finish grading or used up my pot of red ink. I know the pot will be empty long before I am finished.

And then I glance over and see it.

The headline. And the picture of Dolores Umbridge.

I can feel the irritation rising, but I, of course remain calm. Pushing aside the essays, I snatch the paper up and start reading the article with intensity.

"Order 847: Marriage Law- The Pinnacle of Dolores Umbridge". I scan the article. It is moments like this that I am glad I have a Detection Charm set in the corridors or else a student might see the look of utter shock and disgust on my face and the cursing flowing from my mouth.

It is a long article. Marriage required for all magical persons from the ages of seventeen to forty with required procreation a minimum of once a week. One child is required from all couples. Divorce may be obtained after the child turns eighteen. The single population will be submitted to random lottery. Couples married or already engaged are exempt from the lottery so long as they send in the proper paperwork within the week. Refusal to abide by any of these terms will result in confiscation of your wand and magical rights. Basically exile.

It is revolting.

Dolores Umbridge is a pain in the arse. Four years and a war later, and I still can't get the memory of that toad out of my mind. And now she is back about to start round two of making my life miserable.

But I am a war hero. She can't force this on me. The ministry can't force this on me. I mean, they can, but why should they?

It has been almost five months since that fateful day in the Shrieking Shack. To be more specific, today makes it four months, two weeks and three days that I should have died.

I am a man living on borrowed time.

There was a single vision I had. Instead of seeing the afterlife, it was a hospital room. My beautiful Lily was there. So was her damned husband. I couldn't see their faces, but I know without a doubt it was them. Her and Potter together forever and forever tormenting me. As I struggled to reach for her, she backs away with a look of fear as Potter steps in front, hiding her with his body.

Even in my own hallucinations, he gets in the way.

But somehow I escaped my visions and made it through, only to face the Wizengamot for my crimes. Minerva took it upon herself to gather witnesses and evidence. Miraculously, I wasn't given a life sentence in Azkaban or the Kiss.

I suspect the Chosen One's testimony had something to do with my exoneration.

Now, for the first time in over twenty years, I have no purpose. I still have my missive to protect Lily's child, but he no longer needs it. He is an adult, not a child. Whatever trouble he gets in from here on out is his fault and I am in no way obligated to interfere.

My two employers, Voldemort and Dumbledore, are gone from this world and the rest of the world either loathes me or regards me as a hero. Never have so many people tried to seek me out to either curse or congratulate me. In a single day, I found myself unable to leave my house without a glamour or potion to disguise me.

Minerva visited me at the beginning of August.

Somehow she had heard of all my unwanted attention (probably from the press continually commenting on my absence) and informed me that Slughorn was retiring yet again and the spot was mine if I accepted. Technically, I don't need to work, I received awards and gifts from admirers to last me a lifetime, but I couldn't stay in that wretched house any longer.

I don't consider myself a social creature, but Spinner's End is just Azkaban in a Suburb. Reluctantly, but gratefully I accepted.

Being back here teaching makes me feel like the last several years never happened. I teach, do my night patrols, brew potions for the infirmary, and do as the Headmistress asks. Although this isn't how I believed I'd be spending my newfound freedom, I must admit, it is comfortable.

Some days I even believe I won't eventually wake up from this dream, but I then I add another day to my mental calendar and remember that I should have been dead.

How did this happen? I've asked myself everyday how I spent years living so close to death and never quite achieving it. Then, when I was one breath away from dying, I still couldn't obtain it.

Probably my greatest failure, but I know that Death will come for me soon enough. However, now Death will have to find me without the assistance of a psychotic master, jealous Death Eater brethren, and a fucking snake waiting for me to let my guard down.

It's funny to think that I never really thought about growing old since I always knew I would die young.

If the Dark Lord didn't kill me, it was only a matter of time before one of my fellow Death Eater's discovered my betrayal and took my life to up their own status. I would have done the same thing at one time in my life.

But now, the war is over and the times have changed.

I am reformed.

I will get to grow old.

Well, I'll have to get married first and then be allowed to grow old.

Looking back at the paper, I feel myself smirk a little. It is true, I am no longer a Death Eater, but my connections are still there. My Slytherin nature will find a solution to this new situation and even find a way to work it to my advantage.

I know just the person to help me with this. He can't refuse me.

But now, it is time for class. I will have to visit him this afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucius always welcomes my presence with a stiff drink. I can tell by his composure that he already suspects that I am here not just for our weekly drink together. Since the war ended, we have come to terms with each other's part in the war and have found ourselves relaxing in his manor at the end of the long weeks of trials, celebrations, and inquisitions. There are no more secrets between us and I have to admit it is nice to have at least one person who I can let my guard down with.

"Welcome, friend," Lucius says handing the whiskey over. I accept it, knowing that I will need it. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?" I give him a wry smile. I would rather get straight to the point, but then again, the whiskey is too good to make this a quick meeting.

"Come now, Lucius," I drawl dryly. "I can't visit during the week for a free drink? I may be only a lowly teacher, but I know where to go when I want quality liquor. I would be foolish to believe I could go anywhere else to receive this fine drink and such pleasurable company."

He chuckles and raises his glass in agreement. Although we both know my sarcasm is evident, Lucius still accepts the compliment. Better to catch flies with honey than vinegar. We toast and sit for a moment as I wonder if he is really going to make me start the conversation. I am saved as he finally says, "I suppose you saw the prophet?"

"Then you know why I am here," I quip back. I can see his hesitation to choose his words carefully.

"I had nothing to do with this," he automatically deflects. "I do not work for that scum Shacklebolt. And you know that insufferable hag is behind it anyway. Besides, you know my pull inside the ministry is not as strong as it once was. It would not be wise for me to be involved in something that doesn't directly affect me anyway." I have never seen Umbridge and Lucius in the same room, but I can only imagine it would represent something close the suffocating air of the moon.

"Are you sure? I know you read the last part of the law where contraception is prohibited. You know that Narcissa is not the only one that would apply to," I hint slyly with a shrug of my shoulders. He smirks. Narcissa may not be subject the law, but he knows what I imply. Those tarts he keeps on the side are well within the age limits of the law. I am even willing to bet a few Galleons that Lucius won't be halting all his exploits to wait for the witches to be impregnated by their new husbands.

"True," he says nodding thoughtfully. "It does put a damper on certain parts of my lifestyle, but you and I both know there are other ways to avoid conception and take care of a problem should it come to that." That evil glint in his eye reminds me how Slytherin he can be and the very reason why I came today. It is becoming more and more obvious that I will have to guide this conversation manually.

"But you are a honorable man. I am sure you would find it in your duty as a Pureblood to refute such a law. We both know that this law would force you and your future generations to taint your blood. Isn't that reason enough to fight?" I can see his face shift as I struck a nerve. While Lucius is has slightly altered his views on blood purity issues since the war, the repercussions of his stance is still too fresh in his mind.

"I'd have thought that we'd been friends long enough that you could simply converse like gentleman instead of trying to get me to rise out of me," he accuses as he tenses up. His grey eyes turn cold with a steely fire waiting to lash out. I feel a little guilty about throwing my comment out there, but I don't show him because now I must move to damage control before this gets out of hand.

"I'm sorry," I apologize politely. "I should have just been straight from the beginning. Lucius, I need to find a way around this law and you are the best person to help me. Not only because you have the connections to the ministry, but also because you are much better at politics than I ever was. I am humbly asking for you to help keep me from being subjected to this law." My smooth words are a disgusting form of flattery, but all I can think is _flies to honey, not vinegar_.

"Very true, I am far better at politics than you," he concedes as he relaxes slightly. "But again, this law has no effect directly on me. I am married already and my son is already engaged to a pureblood who is worthy to be called a Malfoy. Even as your friend, why would this be a valuable fight to me?" This time, it is he who gives an arrogant shrug of non-chalantness.

"Lucius," I hiss back at him threateningly. He just gives me a cold stare as he sips his drink and waits for me to continue. "I am sure there are ways that you can be persuaded," I say coolly.

That gets his attention and his face darkens. We both know I am talking about the debt he owes me. The debt I put him in when I did everything in my power to protect his son and wife from the Dark Lord's wrath when he couldn't. The debt he owes me for risking my life for his only beloved son. The debt I never really intended on cashing in. Until now. And Lucius Malfoy is not a man who likes to be in debt, even for the lives his family.

"I'll see what I can do," he says curtly. He gives me a hard look, but after a moment, his face softens as he sighs deeply. "But honestly, I don't see what the big deal is. I am sure that there are plenty of witches who would swoon at the prospect of a marriage to the man who sacrificed himself for the world. Aren't you bedding a witch already? Or at least you have been with one that wouldn't mind cooking your dinner and carrying your spawn?"

I know he isn't trying to embarrass me, but I can feel my face is warm. The war has brought about changes that I would have never guessed. The population is divided between the ones that still hate me as a the Death Eater who murdered the great Albus Dumbledore and the ones that adore me for my devotion to a boy of the woman who scorned me for my enemy. The latter being the most difficult type of people to deal with.

When Potter's testimony got out, women believed I was some kind of hopeless romantic, a broken lover they could fix, or a sensitive brooding man who had a darker kinky side. Utter rubbish. The press didn't help matters, either. They followed me everywhere with the mob of women trying to woo me. The nurses at St. Mungo's Hospital were the worst. I was lucky to escape that hospital without one of them attached, and that was only because I checked out a day early.

But he doesn't understand. He never understood my affection for Lily or the commitment I made with Albus. The man has never felt that way about any woman, so how could he possibly see my struggle or reasons? Lily will haunt me until the day I die and bedding anyone else still feels like betrayal. Just because I have finally avenged her death doesn't mean I have forgotten her.

"I just want to be left alone," I finally reply honestly and sincerely. Lucius gives me a suspicious look for only a moment before he realizes arguing is futile. We have been over this more times than I care to recall. He knows I returned to Hogwarts because Minerva promised me the privacy I couldn't get in the real world, but he never believed that was the whole reason.

"Is that how I am supposed to persuade them? The great Severus Snape just wants to be left alone to teach, brew potions, and die alone?" I nod my affirmation as he shakes his head and sneers, "They will never go for it."

"Please." I know that single word is begging, but I try to hide the pleading from my voice by saying it low and firm. I am still coming to terms with the fact that I survived. The last thing I need to try to work through my residual feelings while trying to deal with a strange woman attached to me.

"I can't promise anything, but I will try," he says throwing his hands up in surrender before rubbing his head in what looks like exhaustion. I accept his word and give him a grateful thanks under my breath. Taking the last bit of his drink, Lucius clears his throat and says, "But I would recommend that you at least try to find someone in case I don't succeed. I am not a miracle worker."

I smile slightly in thanks. I cannot deny that he is right, but is it really wrong for me to hope that just his once, things will go my way? One week. One week is all he has to convince someone in that I should be exempt of the law. One week for me to scout out witches who could be suitable mates.

We finish the afternoon chat on various subjects before I take my leave back to the school. So much to do and so little time.

* * *

Hermione enters our dorm room slowly and quietly. We didn't have any classes together today, so I haven't seen her since my outburst this morning. A moment of silence passes before she comes over to my bed and plops down. I pretend to be too preoccupied in my book I'm reading as she just stares at me expectantly.

Ignoring her doesn't help because she just starts talking. "So….do you wanna talk about breakfast this morning?"

I shrug and shake my head pretending to be clueless. It never works, but I still try to pass off the farce.

"Alright, then I will tell you about my day," Hermione asserts as she straightens up. "I went to the library at lunch and started to research the specifics of the law. This is not something new. A similar law was passed over a hundred years ago when a famine nearly wiped out the magical community in Ireland."

"Fascinating," I say rolling my eyes. Leave it to Hermione to turn politics into a history lesson.

"I know, right?" She shirps, completely oblivious to my sarcasm. "But anyway, the books gave me all the information we need to secure our engagements."

"Secure our engagements? It sounds like a business proposal. And besides, I'm not engaged."

"But you will be," she says hurriedly jumping off the bed. She brings her bag back to my bed and begins rummaging through as she continues to explain. "The law doesn't say anything about having to be engaged prior to its passing, so you can get engaged today and fill the document out so that your name doesn't go into the lottery. I already filled one out for Ron and I, so I made a blank copy for you and Harry as well." She hands me a roll of parchment for me too look at. My stomach knots uncomfortably as I begin to read:

_I, Harry James Potter, sign this document as proof of my betrothal to Ginevra Molly Weasley. In signing this document, I also testify that the above stated party is in no way coerced or blackmailed to proceed into the henceforth union…._

My vision blurs and I can't read another word. But I know what the rest says. It will state that we will be married on a certain day at a certain time. There is probably a section declaring that we understand the consequences of not following through with the engagement. The second half of the page will repeat the same statements but switch our names. There are two lines at the bottom for us to sign our lives away.

"This is the only way," Hermione urges as she sees my face. "I know that you and Harry are not quite where you should be in your relationship, but you have to trust that he cares for you enough to not want you to be put in the lottery."

"I know that," I snap hotly. "I wouldn't really have an issue marrying him and getting to know him over the next several years, but, but….I just don't know what to do about the whole having children part," It sounds completely ridiculous, but I have to admit it. Children aren't exactly part of what I planned for the next several years.

Hermione sighs deeply and nods slowly. "Yes, that does seem to be a problem for both of us, but I'm not going to give up hope yet. I'll be damned if the Ministry thinks I am going to give up my education to pop out a couple of kids."

"I'm not ready for kids," I quietly croak.

"Don't worry. We have one month and I know that I can find some way to get around it. But for now, you and Harry need to sign the scroll and send it in as soon as possible. We can't risk any of our names going into the lottery."

Setting the scroll on my nightstand, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. She is patting me reassuringly on the back.

"I'll see Harry tomorrow night at Quidditch tryouts so we can send it afterwards," I finally say. She nods. "I just hate to force Harry to do this."

"Ginny! Don't say that!" she exclaims in exasperation. "You are not forcing him, this law is. The Ministry is forcing both of you! All of us. We are not the guilty ones here. They are." The desperation in her voice is as evident as the anger burning in her eyes.

I know I shouldn't feel guilty for this, but I do. We are the victims and we do need to protect ourselves. I don't even want to think about what would happen if the lottery paired me with someone I don't even know. A shudder runs through me just thinking about it. But this is reality and I have to accept it.

We need to find a way out of this. Just like the war, we need to work together to make it out of this in one piece. Harry and I will figure this out and so will my brother and best friend. There may not be much light at the end of this tunnel, but at least I know what direction I need to go. I will be with Harry and we will just have to take this one day at a time.

Hermione gives me a reassuring smile and we sit in silence for a moment before she hops off my bed. She picks up her bag and says, "Well, now that the plan is in action, I really can't put off my Potions essay any longer. I've got so much homework to get through if I am ever going to find the solution to this."

"We," I state with a smile. She gives me a curious look, so I finish my thought. "If _we_ are ever going to find the solution. _We_ are all in this together, so I want to help."

"Good," she says pulling me off the bed. "While I finish do my essay, you can check through these books I picked up." She pulls out four books from her bag and hands them to me. I groan dramatically and she just laughs.

"I knew I should have taken N.E.W.T. level potions," I grumble. She gives a small smirk at me before I crack open the first book and sit on my bed. With new determination, I begin scanning pages for anything that will remotely help our cause.

* * *

"Ginny!" calls the voice from behind me as I make may way to the castle after Herbology. I whirl around and see Harry running towards me. I can feel my stomach twist into itself.

I tried to tell him about Hermione's plan after the tryouts, but he was so tired, I'm not sure he actually heard a word I said. That was two days ago. Since then, we have had practice and classes, but not much time to talk alone otherwise. Time is running out.

"Come on," I say when he makes it to the top of the hill. I lead him to the Quidditch pitch. Maybe if we are in a comfortable setting, this discussion will be easier. He holds my hand and follows me to the field silently. We find a spot on the edge and sit for a moment in silence.

"So…" I trail off. Brilliant. I can't even make a coherent sentence.

"So," he repeats looking off in the distance. This is more awkward than the Valentine I sent him six years ago.

"What do you think?" I ask casually. It is rhetorical and vague, but hopefully it will jumpstart our conversation.

"I assume you are talking about…." his voice trails off as he looks over at me. I nod and he understands we are on the same page. "I don't know." Stunned I look at him trying to determine if I should be understanding or angry.

"Wait, no, I, that's not it," he stutters as he sees my reaction. He takes a deep breath and speaks with his eyes closed. "I didn't mean to say that. What I _meant_ was that I don't know what else we can do. Hermione is right. We need to do this, so there isn't really much else to say is there?"

I know he is trying to be logical, but the words cut me like a knife. "You don't have to get engaged to me if you don't want to," I say harsher than I want.

"No, Ginny...I didn't mean it like that. I just…" he stops abruptly and swears under his breath before sighing. He tries again. "Ginny, I will marry you. I do love you. I just wanted to do this my way, not someone else's. I want to be with you more than anything, but I hate that I can't ask you to marry me the way I want to. This isn't how I imagined it."

I know what he means. Although I am by no means a girly girl, I still wanted a bended knee and sweet speech. Even my bumbling brother's efforts were so sweet, it would have melted the coldest of hearts. But now that will never happen for me. All I am going to get is this awkward conversation confirming our engagement.

We sit in silence trying figure out where the conversation needs to go from here. "Harry, I am more terrified than I have ever been," I confide in him. He nods and wraps his arm around me as I lean my head on his shoulder.

"I am too," he says quietly. "But we are in this together. We will be scared together. I always assumed I would be a husband and a father, but not this young. But I do promise to be the best husband and father I can be. We will learn how to be married and be parents together. We will be scared together and conquer our fears together."

His words are so sincere and so comforting. This is how I know we are meant to be together. He knows the right words and he doesn't say them to make me feel better. He says them because he is honest. It makes me fall in love with him even more.

"Do you have it?" he asks suddenly. I nod and pull the scroll out of my bag. He holds it and looks at me very seriously. "I want you to know that I am not going to sign this because they are making me. I am going to sign this because I want to be with you."

Not quite the proposal I was looking for, but enough to make my eyes water in happiness. He blushes and looks away. I always find his shyness adorable so I reach over and place my hand on his cheek. As his head turns to me, I scoot over and press my lips to his. Taking the hint, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his lap. There is no where I would rather be than on Quidditch pitch, kissing the best wizard I have ever met.


	3. Chapter 3

The proposals began coming through as soon as I left Malfoy Manor. Even though I started reading through them, I can not come to terms with the idea of choosing one or accepting a stranger's proposal. Women are offering me everything I could possibly want as means of persuasion- wealth, servitude, a house of nothing but rooms for potions, sexual promises. But all these offers just make my stomach roll. Call me arrogant, but I think I deserve more than becoming some object auctioned off to the highest bidder.

It doesn't take more than a few hundred before I decide to burn the rest going forward. Each letter is vulgar and degrading.

The week is dragging on. I throw myself into my work and purposely assign the students extra assignments in an effort to keep me from having a spare second. It helps, but when I'm not grading essays, my mind begins to wander to the stack of letters that keeps accumulating in my fireplace.

During my recovery and trial, I could feel my walls struggling to stay up. The nightmares were a nightly occurrence. As my innocence was declared and things started to get back to normal, they subsided to a couple of times a week and now they are only once a week or so. Every night since the arrival of that Prophet, my nightmares have come back in full force. I am tired, irritable, and people are starting to notice.

My anxiety tempts to get the better of me every time I overhear conversations during meals or passing through the corridors. Teachers and students alike are always discussing it. And people think it is appropriate to try to discuss it with me. Argus wanted to question me in passing one day and Septima tried to bring it up at dinner. I shut every attempt down instantaneously. Even handing out detentions and docking points from the houses ruthlessly isn't easing my stress.

A few days after my meeting with Lucius, Minerva calls me into her office. She and I have come a long way since the war ended. We are not really friends, but we are amicable enough. Most of the time, I feel like can trust her. I think on some level she understands how wrong it was of Albus to use me, so I can tell she tries not to manipulating me. But the meeting she has called is on short notice and it makes me suspicious.

"Severus, please have a seat." She offers casually enough, so I sit back comfortably to pretend this is a social call. Behind her desk, Albus smiles with his twinkling eyes like he knows what is about to happen.

"So let's talk about this new law," she commands forcefully. You have to hand it to her- the woman doesn't beat around the bush. But I purposely keep quiet, so she says, "No response? Well, then I will ask. Who are you going to marry?"

I am a little taken aback by the witch's forwardness, but I suppose the Headmistress has more important things to attend to than this.

"No one." I reply calmly and coolly. Her pursed lips tell me that I am about to get reprimanded like when I was a lad and she was merely my transfiguration teacher.

"Severus Tobias Snape," she warns in a low voice. I narrow my eyes and hold back a flinch at her use of my full name as she continues on. "You know as well as I do, you need to find someone. You are bound by this law like everyone else." Her words turn my anxiety into irritation.

"I don't see how that is really any of your business, Headmistress," I snap spitefully with added emphasis to the 'Headmistress' part.

"Well, then let me enlighten you," she counters sarcastically as her eyebrows raise slightly. "Your spouse will undoubtedly need access to the castle as you are under contract to remain on the grounds during the school year. Along with access to your own personal quarters, I will also need to make arrangements for her to Floo back and forth from her job, expand your private quarters, and when the time comes, determine necessary adjustments to your schedule for care of your future offspring. Therefore, as your boss and Headmistress of the school you are under contract for, I can assure you it is most certainly my business to know the woman with whom you will be sharing your quarters with."

"The woman who will be sharing my quarters," I repeat in mockery. I put my hand on my chin and say, "Tell me, Minerva, what kind would you like me to take? A lovely little blond who enjoys martini's and sunsets? Maybe I can get a feisty brunette with a talent for baking cookies? Or perhaps a heavy, less attractive beast who won't distract your students?" I make sure to drip every single word in venom to show my distaste for the conversation. But Minerva McGonagall does not back down from a fight that easily.

"I know you, Severus," she points out in a serious voice that is still authoritative, but not really threatening. "I know you are looking for a loophole. Everyone is. There is nothing wrong with that, but you need to face the facts here. You are going to have to marry and produce a child. I know you like your privacy, but am trying to help you."

"Then you should respect my privacy and stop trying to help me." I hate people think I need their help. Twenty years I have been getting along fine by myself, so how can she possibly think I need her now? Besides, I refuse to owe her. I guess that is just another reason why Lucius and I understand each other so well. Debt complicates life.

"I know you don't want any help, but I am offering it none the less." She is firm in her words, but her expression is soft and sincere. I know she is trying to be nice, but it just makes me defensive.

"Well, unless you are proposing to marry me, there is not really anything that you can do." The retort comes out of my mouth faster than I like. It is snide, but it does make me feel better.

"No, I am not offering that," she laughs heartily as the tension breaks. "That would be most inappropriate since I am your boss. Not to mention, we would surely murder each other within the first week." She gives me a smile to add emphasis to her joke.

When I don't return it, she just sighs. "I am only asking what your plan is because I just didn't think you wanted to end up with some stranger you know nothing about. At least if you choose someone, you would know what you are getting yourself into."

We sit staring each other down for a minute. Finally, I exhale tiredly and run my hand through my hair. "I have thought that myself," I confess truthfully. "But there is no one remotely favorable. Besides, who says that the Ministry won't exempt me?"

"While I would love to see that you come out of this on your own terms, I am too much of a realist. Even the Golden Trio of war heroes will be forced into matrimony to keep themselves from ending up with their adoring fans."

I scoff at that comment. "We all know that Potter has been mooning over his little red-headed girlfriend since he rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago. It was only a matter of time before they got engaged. Even the other two in that trio have been spotted together by the press. Certainly, none of them are being forced since it is something that would have eventually happened."

"They are too young. No, not too young. They are of age, but they have yet to live. The last several years has forced this generation of children to grow up and become adults. Now is the time they should be able to relax and begin to experience the childhood they missed out on and ease into the adulthood they choose." Speeches like this remind me of how much of a sappy Gryffindor she really is.

"Poor, poor children. Childhood ruined with a child of their own." I smirk at my saucy comment, but quickly get rid of it as Minerva glares at me intently.

"That is not the point and you are avoiding the subject. This isn't about them, this is about you," she responds curtly as she points a finger at me.

"I will be fine, Minerva," I insist in exasperation. Minerva just shakes her head.

"Severus, I know you will be fine. But please promise me something?" Her eyes stare hard into mine. I know that she is about to ask for something awful. "Promise me you will at least think it over. I think you would benefit more from choosing your own partner than letting a lottery choose."

Her statement pushes something inside me. Minerva McGonagall is acting just like Albus Dumbledore. She is trying to manipulate me! I don't have a logical explanation of why she would do this, but my anger has already risen past reason. I stand up quickly and draw myself up to my full height to tower over her.

"I think I will take my chances with the lottery. Good day, Headmistress." I sweep out of the room without a second glance back to see what the effect of my comment was. But I slam the door to reiterate my finality in the situation.

As I make my way to my dungeons, the conversation replays in my mind on repeat. My last statement rings louder and clearer each time. If Lucius fails, would I really be okay with letting some lottery decide my fate instead of taking control myself? Could a random stranger be any worse than the women who are proposing?

My private quarters are dim and comforting. Behind these walls, I don't have to worry about putting on a front. Here, I can truly think and be myself. I collapse in my chair and begin to think with my hand firmly wrapped around a generous tumbler of gin. Seeing the large stack of letters waiting for the necessary incineration, I set the fireplace ablaze. As I stare into the burning proposals, my drink begins to betray me.

Maybe this isn't so bad.

Yes, the lottery is random, but maybe that makes it better. True, whoever they pick for me may have read the crap the Prophet or Quibbler has spit out, but she that doesn't mean she'll believe any of it. And if she does have any preconceived notions, surely I can change that. I am very persuasive.

This could be my chance to start over, start fresh. I have wondered for months now- why did I live? I had accepted my fate. I was ready to die. Now, my life is laid out before me. My past can stay in my past, but my future is not clouded with vows and promises of devotion. I can choose what path I take. No master to decide for me. Well, the Ministry is deciding, but they are a far cry from the monster I once served.

I know that Lily will forever be a part of me, but I did what I set out to do. She would want me to find some kind of peace now, right? Find a witch and settle down. My future wife, whoever she may be, would have to get to know me. I am not looking for love from her, but this stranger could give me a chance to become a different person, a better person.

Minerva is right, I am a private person. But I could change for her. For this unknown woman. The Ministry will give me one month to marry once they select my bride, so I could court her. We could get to know each other. Become acquainted. Become friends. Then move forward. At least then I don't have sell my soul. Again.

Besides, I have just realized the Golden Trio have actually made things easier for Lucius. Potter and his two cronies are well taken care of, so what is the big deal of letting one old teacher slide under the law? The ministry could make one single exception for a war hero, right?

I have come to the decision that I will allow the lottery to choose my fate. If it is a witch I truly can't get along with, all I have to do is knock her up once and wait out the twenty years. Besides, I am a potion's master for Merlin's sake. I can make her agreeable or desire me if I really want to.

I never knew how much hope was in a bottle of gin.

* * *

My new outlook on the situation puts me at ease. It is like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My walls are firmly back in place and this gives me a new air of confidence. Now that I am at peace, I begin to think about my future wife.

Who will she be? Someone I know? Blonde or Brunette? Smart? Quiet? There are hundreds of possibilities and it makes me slightly excited. My nightmares have been replaced by erotic dreams of this faceless witch. I wake up multiple times a night now with a raging erection.

Each time is slightly different than the time before. Sometimes she is walking alongside me through the dark dungeons with her arm around my waist. Sometimes she is leaning against my chest as we sit by the lake watching the giant squid. She kisses me and comforts me. Her hands run all over my body frantically, as she presses against me. Like all dreams, it then skips to my room where we are naked. But I can never see her face. It is hidden by her hair. I can't even remember what color her hair is. The dream always ends before I can penetrate her.

I feel like a teenage boy. Each time I wake up, I am panting and aroused to the point of feeling the need to finish what this witch has started. I have more self control though, so I roll over and forget the pain between my legs in the hope that she will visit again and finish job. She never does, so I usually give into my needs as I shower the next morning.

But these dreams give me hope. I don't believe in that Divination crap Sybil Trelawney spews, but I it does seem like these dreams might be a sign. Not a sign that she is going to be beautiful or have an insatiable sexual appetite, but a sign that we are going to be compatible. It makes me believe we will enjoy each other's company and want to spend time together.

Maybe I won't have to use a potion to seduce her or be able to stand her presence.

* * *

"Any luck?"

Hermione's voice snaps me out of my own head. I am sure I have been staring at the same page for the last several minutes, but the words seem seem like they are written in ancient runes or something.

"Nothing yet. You?" She shakes her head and sighs. Since Hermione finished her essay, we have shut ourselves in the library. But we aren't finding anything useful.

"Hermione," I plead quietly. "What if we don't… I mean, what if there's nothing…"

As if reading my mind, she cuts me off. "We are not going to think like that. This research is the first step in building a case. Your father is already gathering support for an appeal and Professor McGonagall is speaking to the board members of Hogwarts to possibly make exceptions for students so we can complete our education. We have hope, but we have to do our due diligence."

"I know," I say pulling another book out of the stack between us. "It's just the whole kids thing. Let's say that we can't get it overturned and have to follow through with this marriage. Without a potion or a spell, how on earth are we going to keep from getting pregnant?"

"Yes, that is a quandary," she muses thoughtfully. "But there is nothing in the documents about certain Muggle methods. Obviously, condoms are out and the Pill is detectable, but there is the possibility of using an IUD. Using Fertility Awareness is a good possibility if nothing else is."

I just stare at her blankly. Between her Muggle talk and her extreme intelligence, sometimes it feels like she is is speaking Goblin or Parseltongue. I have no idea what she is talking about. Seeing my expression, she gives a small chuckle before trying to explain.

"An IUD is a device put inside you to prevent pregnancy and Fertility Awareness is just another term for the rhythm method. IUD will be the most risky since it could be detected as a foreign object or deception spell will give it away. Fertility Awareness might be the best option at this point."

"My mother had seven children," I point out. "I am pretty sure my fertility is going to be higher than the average witches, so I that doesn't really help me."

"Fertility Awareness method is a form of birth control based on the woman's monthly cycle," she explains. She points to the calendar. "Muggles have proven that there are certain days during a menstrual cycle that are better for conceiving than others. No matter what genetic fertility you may be predisposed to, there are still only certain days you can get pregnant on. These days can be avoided to prevent pregnancy."

I sit back and mull it over. "So we just have to keep from doing _that_ on certain days and we'll be okay?" Boy, do I sound like a little kid. I can't even say the word. No, I can't even say the euphemism without blushing.

"For the most part," Hermione shrugs. "It isn't a perfect method, but is the only one we have to work with. The law only says we have to have an encounter only once a week and they don't specify which day of the week. During a typical cycle, you'll be fertile for about six days. Given that there are seven days in a week, you only need to select the one day you aren't fertile to fulfill that portion of the law and keep from becoming pregnant. The rest of the days won't matter, just the six."

Merlin, this is humiliating. Being best friends, we are pretty comfortable talking about our cycles, but talking about sex is awkward. Partly because she knows Harry and I haven't gone all the way yet, but mostly because I don't want to think about her shagging my brother.

"Fine. If this is the only thing we can do, then show me how it works," I concede. She goes through the calendar and shows me how to find my fertile days. It takes a few minutes for her to explain risks involved, but it does make sense.

"And so you'll have to let Harry know when they fertile days are," she finally concludes. I look up with wide eyes. Tell Harry when we are supposed to…

"No, absolutely not," I say crossing my arms and shaking my head.

"Ginny," she says rolling her eyes and sitting back. "It might be awkward at first, but no more awkward than when you two are actually-"

"Don't say it," I shriek. Madame Pince shoots us a warning glare. I drop my voice back down and firmly tell her I don't want to talk about it.

"Ginny," Hermione hisses back, "don't you want to?" She raises her eyebrows. I don't have to ask to know she is trying to ask politely if I have a problem with shagging Harry.

"Of course I do," I deflect quickly. After a second I add, "One day."

"One day is sometime in the next month," she adds gently.

"I know that, thank you," I snap back. "Just because it has to happen doesn't mean I am ready. Some of us have been trying to get to know our boyfriends, and haven't been sleeping with them for the last six months." I give her a scathing look as she blushes deeply.

"We haven't just been -" she starts and then clamping her mouth as the look of disgust crosses my face. She takes a deep breath and tries again, "Look, no one is ever really ready for their first time, but then most people get a choice of when it will happen. Maybe you and Harry just need to talk about it."

"I'm not talking to him about...that," I repeat heatedly. I know I shouldn't be furious with her, but all my anxiety has finally taken hold of me in the form of terror. Sure, I may have had other boyfriends in the past, but all we ever did was snog with some touching over our clothes. I mean, for Circe's sake, Harry hasn't even seen me naked!

"Ginny, calm down," she urges, trying to lay her hand on my shoulder. I yank away and stand up so briskly, a tower of books on the table knocks onto the floor with a loud thump. Before Madame Pince can walk over, I rush out of the Library. I don't know where I intend to go, but I need to walk to clear my head. I turn the corner and collide with Harry forcefully enough to knock both of us to the ground.

"Ginny," he says bewildered. He gets up and holds his hand out, asking, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I snipe shortly and ignore his hand. Scrambling up off the ground, I turn to walk away. He grabs my arm firmly.

"No, you aren't," he states. I try to pull away, but he steps in my path and places both hands on my shoulders. His head dips a little as he tries to look in my eyes, but I avoid his stare and look down to my right. "Ginny, what's going on? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" My voice rises with each question. "This law is what is wrong! This stupid, stupid, stupid law. Everything is wrong. I can't do it! I just can't!" I throw my hands up to break his grip on my shoulders.

"You can't marry me?" The hurt in his tone snaps me back to reality. He takes a step back defensively with a bewildered look on his face.

"No, no, I just….that's not what I meant," I stutter. His green eyes are glaring down at me. I know he is thinking the worst, so I try to recover. "It's just this whole law is driving me crazy. I don't want to have children. I mean, I do, eventually, but not right now. But this law is forcing us to, you know. I just, I just don't want to. I mean, I want to with you but it is too soon. We've snogged plenty, but I don't know how to do _that_. I just…"

My voice trails off as he wraps me up in a kiss. Closing my eyes, I can feel my body relax against his. In this moment, nothing else matters. Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. He pulls away and looks down at me. I blush and realize how stupid I just sounded.

"Better?" He asks rubbing my my cheek softly. I look up to respond but get interrupted in the worst way imaginable.

"Potter, I'm sure Miss Weasley will eventually come to terms with losing twenty point for inappropriate conduct," the silky voice sneers. I try to push him off me, but he keeps hold of my waist confidently.

"It's my fault Professor," Harry corrects politely. "I was the one being inappropriate." I can feel my face on fire as Professor Snape looks between the two of us suspiciously. The two of them had dinner not long after the trial, but Harry wouldn't tell me what it was about. I had hoped they decided to put their differences aside, but tension in the air tells me they aren't quite on amicable terms yet.

"Indeed," he drawls smoothly. He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes icily and then back at Harry with a thin smile. "Then, I guess it would only be appropriate to punish you Potter. Twenty points will be taken from _each_ of you."

I open my mouth to protest, but Harry shakes his head and gives me a look before replying, "Yes, sir. We apologize, Professor." Well, that was unexpected.

Snape glares at the two of us for another minute almost as if he can't decide whether to yell at Harry or hex him into oblivion. He decides on a snide comment. "Please, don't let me interrupt your _conversation_." He folds his arms and waits as if to challenge us to kiss again.

"Come on," I hiss. I grab Harry's arm and pull him in the opposite direction. Reluctantly, Harry follows, but not before I catch him giving Snape what looks like a disappointed shake of the head. We make it back to the portrait by the common room.

"What was that all about?" I ask stopping short of the Fat Lady. The hallway is empty and I don't really feel like going in yet, so I sit on the base of the stairs nearby and pull him next to me.

Harry shrugs and raises his eyebrows. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I asked first," I retort. My anxiety has somewhat subsided, but the irritation is still partially there.

"Professor Snape had every right to dock points from us. There is nothing more to say," he responds casually as he takes the place next to me. "Now what about you? Are you ready to explain whatever it was you were trying to say?"

I hate it when Hermione is right. No, I take that back. I hate it when she is right when I want her to be wrong. But, alas, she is right about me needing to talk to Harry. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to figure out how to say everything that is going through my mind without giving him the wrong idea.

"I'm scared about the whole kids thing," I say slowly. He lets out a small chuckle.

"Ginny, your mum is the best mum I've ever met and if you are even one percent of the woman she is, then you will definitely be great as well," he says smiling. I know he loves my mum like she was his own. She has always been so good to him.

"That's not the part I'm talking about," I mumble. My face is turning red again. I glance over to see him worried. "I'm not scared about having kids, I'm just anxious about the act of making them." I nearly whisper the last part, but I know he heard me clear enough by the way his ears turn red.

"Oh," he quips shortly. He nods and we sit there in silence for a few moments before he finally speaks again. "I know that we haven't...but, I don't want you to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

"No," I reply quickly. I knew that I was going to say this wrong, but it is too late for me to turn back now. "I'm not scared of you or doing _it_. I've just never -"

"Me neither," he cuts me off. I know I shouldn't be surprised by this, but I am. Sure, there were rumors about him and Hermione, but I knew those were false when I started to get to know her. Truthfully, I always suspected he and Cho Chang fooled around, but I didn't know for sure. Of course, we never talked about our previous flames, so his revelation is fairly surprising.

"I just didn't think our relationship was ready for something so intimate," I say slowly. "We are still making up for the months we lost. I don't want to complicate it with shagging." I look at him nervously to see how he is taking it. He frowns slightly.

"Ginny, do you want to be with me?" His question is abrupt.

"Of course I do." I give him an earnest nod of my head.

"Do you trust me?"

"I've told you many times I do," I add in exasperation.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes," I know there is apprehension in my voice, but I am nervous about where this line of questioning is going.

"People shag for lots of reasons," he says matter-of-factly. "But there are not very many reasons that are honest and good. If you trust me, know you want to be with me, and love me, just as I trust you, want to be with you, and love you, then you should believe those are good reasons for us to have sex. I'm not trying to put pressure on you, but I want you to know that I'm not going to let this law complicate what we have together. We are the only ones that have that power."

I take a moment to let his words sink in. In all the time I've known him, I don't remember him being so articulate or wise. We got back together after the war because we knew it was meant to be. We are happy together. We are good together. We do love each other and we want to spend the rest of our lives together. We want to have kids with each other and no one else. So why am I making this so difficult?

"I'm sorry," I apologize quietly. "I don't know what's gotten into me. I feel like I am going mad."

"I know," he sooths as he leans in to wrap his arms around me and kiss my forehead. "This whole week has been stressful for both of us. Between Quidditch practice, classes, and the last bits of the inquisitions, I have just been trying to keep my head above water before I drown. At breakfast, I accidently put orange juice in my oatmeal."

I laugh just imagining the look on his face when he tasted the first bite. He hugs me tighter so I lean in and whisper in his ear, "I know something that might help you hold your breath if you get swept under." I lift up and catch his mouth unexpectedly in a deep kiss.

He breaks the kiss and gives me teasing stare. "I thought you weren't ready for us to shag."

"I'm not," I say casually before I drop my hand to his crotch and gently massage him. "But I'm sure there are a few things we can do to help us prepare for when the time does come." He grunts as I give a gentle squeeze.

"Don't tease me," he murmurs running his hand up my waist to cup my breast. Now is as good a time as ever to move to the next step. Before I can chicken out, I haul him to his feet and drag him around the corner to an empty corridor of unused classrooms.

As soon as he shuts the door, I flick my wand at the door to lock it. Harry gives me a quizzical look as I pounce on him in a heated kiss. Grabbing at his trousers, I loosen his belt and undo his pants. Pushing them down, he tries to break the kiss.

"Ginny," he moans out of breath as I reach inside his shorts and grab his member. "We don't have to...don't you think this is a little fast…"

"Shut up," I tell him as I take his mouth in another kiss. I have no intention of going all the way, but I need to do this. I need to be the one to move our relationship into something more physical to remind me that I am in control, not the damn Ministry.

Before he can try to protest again, I drop to my knees and free the erection I felt while we were kissing on the stairs. It looks intimidating since I have no idea if I will even be good at this, but my mind is resolved. I look up one last time to give him a small, sly smile and then shove the whole length in my mouth.

"Argghh," he groans as he throws his head back. This maybe new for me, but I can see I am definitely doing it right. I have heard other girls in the dorm talk about different techniques, so I try out a few. With my mouth bobbing back and forth over his entire length over and over again, I use my hand to squeeze the base in rhythm. It isn't long before he is unconsciously thrusting his hips towards my mouth.

As his thrusting quickens, so does the depth. He is hitting the back of my throat and it is making me want to gag. I try to slow him down by pulling my mouth away and stroking with my hand. His hands are wrapped in my hair trying to bring my mouth back. Once I catch my breath, I take him in my mouth again with the intention of trying something else.

This time, I use my mouth to suck the tip of his cock while my hand continues to stroke. The sounds coming from him are encouraging. I pump faster and suck harder. My other hand reaches up and starts tugging on his balls. His hands are tangled in my hair firmly but not painfully. There is nothing on my mind except the thought that I want to please him the way he wants.

After a few minutes, he gasps and says, "Gin, I'm gonna…fuck!" He nearly shouts the last word as he begins thrusting erratically. I let my stroking hand drop to join my other hand on his balls as he shudders above me. His cock thrusts all the way in my mouth and releases in three quick jerks.

I can feel his cock pulsing in my mouth as I start swallowing his fluids. It tastes bitter and salty, but not too terrible. As I finish cleaning him with my tongue, he pulls me up by my arms and wraps me in a hug. His face is flush and his forehead is glistening with a thin film of sweat. He pulls back to look me in the eyes before murmuring, "I love you."

After his breathing returns and his clothes are back in place, we exit the room hand in hand to the common room. We don't say anything, but the silence is comfortable. There is no need for words. I just performed the most intimate act of my life and I am happy about it. Although I am slightly embarrassed about my forwardness, I also feel empowered by what I just did. I feel grown up.

As we crawl through the portrait, it seems like everyone can see what I just did written across my face. Maybe I should have done it somewhere more private where I wouldn't have had to face my schoolmates immediately afterwards, but it is too late now. Honestly, even if I had a time-turner, I probably wouldn't go back and change it. I am proud of what I did.

I just gave my first blow job. No, I just gave my future husband a blow job. No, I gave Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Slayer of the Dark Lord, Order of Merlin First class, and my future husband a blow job that made him cum. Damn, I am a Gryffindor woman; hear me roar.

And if anyone has anything to say about it, they can just shove it.


	4. Chapter 4

It's Sunday.

Lucius and I had a drink at the Manor yesterday. He claims he did everything he could, but the Ministry is not going to excuse me from the law. But he did manage to pull enough strings to make sure that I didn't get a stuck with a harpie. I guess I should have asked him to make sure my future wife wasn't dumb as a garden of gnomes, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

I suppose the only good part about yesterday was that I got to take out a little of my frustration out on Potter and his girlfriend for their public display of affection almost as soon as I came back to the school. The look on their faces was priceless as took forty point away. Nothing makes me feel better than giving Potter hell.

Other than a meeting with Minerva at two to discuss my review, I have nothing else to do but wait around for the letter that will inform me who my future wife will be. My lab seems to the best place to relieve my anxiety. I can think clearly there. So I rise earlier than usual to skip breakfast and head straight down to my private lab to get started.

The cauldron simmers with a Pepper Up solution for Poppy Pomfrey. I know it is still early in the year, but I do like to be on top of things. An easy potion like this give me time to organize my thoughts and feelings. As I brew, I find my thoughts continually wondering who the witch is going to be. My nerves begin to get the better of me as the minutes tick closer to the impending announcement.

To take my mind off the letter, I revert my attention to think about Lucius and Narcissa. They were arranged by their families before they even came to Hogwarts. They have been married for a long time and show no signs of faltering.

Don't get me wrong, Lucius certainly gets around, but he at least has the decency to keep his affairs private. He is always respectful to her in public and doesn't flaunt his infidelity too much. I have never asked if she has affairs as well, but they seem to have come up with some arrangement to remain civil. Sometimes, I can even believe he does love her. Even after I have seen him come out of a coat closet looking particularly satisfied five minutes prior, he still manages to get his wife to stay in the crook of his arm. Somehow they just work together.

This witch the ministry has chosen for me will practically be like an arranged marriage. Hopefully, she is mature and is willing to put forth similar effort to make this work- or at least enough to keep us from killing each other. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. I want to try to work this out before we have to resort to extra marital affairs. First things first; I have to get to know the witch before I can decide she isn't worth the effort.

When potions are finished, I bottle them and store them in the cupboard. I go to my office to find the letter on my desk waiting. My hands are shaky as I pick up the envelope and inspect it. Time is up. Inside is the name of the woman who will change the next twenty years of my life. Not being the sentimental type, I rip through the contents and scan for the name.

Oh Merlin! There it is. In bold lettering. Her name. But it has to be a mistake! Lucius must be playing a trick on me. No, Lucius doesn't tease like this. But how is it even possible?

I suddenly feel like I am burning up. Sweat pours from my brow and the paper falls from my shaking hand onto the desk. In sheer panic, I pull my wand out and set the damned thing ablaze. But even as the flames engulf the letter turning it to ash, I can still see the the name burned clear as day in my mind.

Ginevra Molly Weasley.

* * *

The owls that flood the Great Hall make me nervous. Everywhere, letters are being dropped in front of people. I know I have nothing to worry about, but the sight of a girl down the table with watery eyes makes my stomach roll. All the boys pale and everyone has shaky hands as they begin sorting through the letters spread across our lunchtime meal.

Then it comes. The first scream of someone who opened one of the dreaded letters. Everyone at the table turns and sees Parvati Patil with wide eyes begin to hyperventilate as her sister wraps her in a hug. You can hear the shifting of chairs and the clanking of dishes as people begin to scramble for the letters strewn over the table.

Ron and Harry have been out all morning doing more Quidditch training, but Hermione is sitting across from me with her head down. There is a forgotten book on the table and her hand are folded in her lap. Her eyes are close like she is in deep meditation. Probably calling on the spirits to give her the strength and words to show the compassion to everyone without crumbling. I know she is feeling as guilty as I am.

Hermione turns to one of the girls next to her and lays a comforting hand on her shoulder as she grabs the envelope for the poor girl. The girl accepts it knowing that there is no point in putting it off anymore. I can't take it anymore. I am not as strong as her and I cannot handle this. Leaving the untouched sandwiches I have just piled on my plate, I get up to leave. I take a few steps before I hear my name being called.

As I turn around, I see Hermione has paled. Her hand is stretched out pointed to the last letter on the table. Dumbly I look back and forth between her and the letter. The chatter and crying throughout the hall so loud I can't put my thoughts together. I move closer and see the envelope has my name on it.

"It must be a formality," I say out loud in a shaky voice. "Harry signed and sent off the form. We are going to be married. Harry signed…." My voice trails off as I see that there is no letter in front of her.

Maybe hers is just delayed. Internally, I slap myself for being so stupid.

Panic overwhelms me as I start breathing rapidly. This can't be happening. Oh, Merlin this can't be happening.

Snatching the letter up, I rip into it as my face begins to burn. Scanning through the papers, I see a single name in bold lettering before my vision blurs. Hot tears fall as I gasp for air. I feel like I am suffocating. And then just before darkness hits me, the last thing I see is the name flash in my head.

Severus Tobias Snape.


	5. Chapter 5

I think someone is calling my name in the distance. Maybe I am just imagining it. Nobody calls me Ginevra except my mother. The voice is female, but definitely not my mum's. The darkness is quiet again, but then the voice rings out clearer and closer.

"Ginevra, can you hear me?"

My eyes open slowly as I see Madame Pomfrey looking over me with a hand on my forehead. I struggle to sit up, but she places a firm hand on my shoulder.

"I can see that you are responsive, but please stay still," she requests. I look around as she waves her wand over me. The room is white and clinical. Obviously, I am in the hospital wing but my foggy mind won't let me think about anything more than my splitting headache.

"Nothing seriously damaged," she mutters over me with a perplexed look. "You took a pretty nasty fall, my dear. Hit your head on the floor pretty hard from what I was told. I'm sure you are feeling that right about now, huh?" I wince and nod. "Well, then it looks like you have nothing more than a concussion. Let me get you a potion for that. Do not try to sit up. Understand?"

She returns with several potions in hand. I down all them without question and almost instantaneously feel the pain subside to a dull throb as my hazy brain seems to clear. The events of the morning come crashing into me like a wayward bludger.

Unaware of the swirling emotions crossing my mind rapidly, Madame Pomfrey continues working about. "I have other patients to attend to, so I will check on you in a few moments. Stay put, stay awake, and do not get up." Her emphasis on her last sentence warns me that she suspects I will run. Rolling my eyes, I nod reluctantly as she bustles out.

Sitting up, I take a few deep breaths and rub my hands against my face. But through my closed eyes a flood of broken revelations begins to make themselves known.

The letter. I shouldn't have gotten a letter. Hermione didn't get a letter. Maybe she did and I didn't see it. But mine should have said Harry James Potter. Harry. Harry was supposed to send in the final paperwork. He didn't. He said he would! But he didn't. Why? How? What now?

Oh, Merlin!

Snape! Severus Tobias Snape. I have to marry…

My stomach unleashes a nasty fury as I lean over the side of my bed. It is amazing that anything comes up when I haven't eaten since breakfast. Once my heaving stops and breathing slows back down, I wipe the nasty taste off my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

Deep breath. Snape. I have to marry Snape.

I sit still for a moment to will my stomach into submission. It works and my thoughts become a bit more coherent.

It was Snape's name on my letter, not Harry's. It was supposed to be Harry's name. He promised. He said he wanted to be with me. He said he would marry me because he wanted to, not because the Ministry was forcing him to. He lied. Harry lied to me. He played me for a fool! I trusted him!

Rage. Pure, white hot rage begins coursing through me. Sparks begins to fly from my fingertips as I itch for my wand. I want nothing more in this moment than to hex his bollocks off.

"Ginny?" I look up to see Hermione, Ron, and Harry standing in the part of the curtain.

"Get out," I hiss harshly. The trio starts to step forward ignoring my request. I say louder, "Get out!" as the three start to speak at once.

"You need to rest-"

"Sis, we just-"

"Gin, let me explain-"

"GET OUT!" I screech at the top of my lungs. They start to rush forward to either help me or restrain me, but I just keep shouting. "LEAVE ME ALONE! GET OUT ALL OF YOU!" I grab the flowers sitting on the table next to the bed and throw them with all my strength. The vase narrowly misses Ron before it hits the wall and shatters.

The quick clattering of steps alerts us that Madame Pomfrey has come to my rescue. "Out. Now. All of you! She needs rest and you three are not helping!" Seeing me scramble off the bed, she points her wand at me and says, "Incarcerous!" Ropes fly from the sides of the bed and bind me tightly as I fall back on mattress. She also casts a silencing spell to stop me from screaming as well.

"But Madame Pomfrey," Ron starts to protest, but she cuts him off.

"Go! Shoo!" She hold her arms out like a barrier and begins to shove them out. The hurt expression on their faces does nothing to melt the ice forming around my heart. Madame Pomfrey comes back in with her arms folded across her chest with a cross expression.

"You certainly seem to be feeling better," she says sarcastically. "But after that outburst just now, I think it might be safer for everyone if you remain here until that temper has subsided as well."

Letting out a deep sigh, I look over to the pool of water and vase shards scattered all over the floor. Madame Pomfrey follows my eyes and flicks her wand at the mess. It disappears and a new vase with flowers appears on the table. "If you didn't like the color, all you had to do was say so," she mutters sarcastically. I give a half hearted smile at her joke.

She sits on the edge of the bed. "I will release you from the spells under the condition that you stop yelling and don't try to leave. You try anything and I will have you stunned into oblivion faster than you can say, 'Stupefy'. Is that clear?" I agree, so she stands up and releases me.

As she parts the curtain she says, "They found a letter next to you when you fainted. I sent it along to the Headmistress to ensure your privacy. She will be here in a little while to check in on your health and return it as well. I do hope that my flowers will remain on table and not discarded on the floor."

Not waiting for me to answer, she exits and snaps the curtains close. I guess that is just her subtle way of warning me that I am not going to enjoy the Headmistress's visit. Leaning back onto the pillows, I take a deep breath and decide I have to get a hold of my anger or this visit will end with my expulsion.

This was not how I thought my day would go.

* * *

The rug in front of my fireplace might have a hole in it by the time I finish sorting through my thoughts. There are only a handful of times that I been truly and wholly shocked and I can honestly say this will be the top of that list for many years to come.

Shock is an understatement. It does not even touch upon my revulsion. Appall is slightly more appropriate. And I am not easily shocked or appalled for that matter.

But this is entirely different.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? How am I going to fix this?

I should slap myself for my foolish questions. This happened because Potter and Weasley didn't send in their damned paperwork. I can't attest to the why of that particular conundrum, but from the coziness I spotted last night, the girl will not be expecting the news her letter will bring. But that is not what I need to focus on right now.

How to fix this? How to fix this? Simple- I can't. I tried to fix this from the beginning but failed miserably. Failure is rapidly replacing my middle name. If it can't be fixed then there is only one thing I can do- proceed with caution.

What's done is done. I am not going to be exiled. That is not an option, so the only thing to do is bend to the will of the Ministry. It seems that my days of following orders are not that far behind me. Following directions is second nature to me. I may not enjoy it, but it has kept my life intact more than once.

Now the question becomes how cautious to be? Only a few hours ago, I was pondering my future wife's personality and abilities. Certainly, seven years of teaching her has given me ample information about my bride to be.

That thought gives my stomach an uncharacteristic churning sensation. She is a student. She was my student until she dropped potions this year. But the thought still stands- she is a student in this school. What a lecher I will be made out to be!

I laugh at the thought of remotely caring what the rest of the world thinks. However, even my wayward morals are having trouble grasping the concept of taking a student to bed. I may be ruthless, cruel, and sometimes underhanded, but I pride myself in being a professional and top educator for that matter. It is repulsive to think about any of my students, current or former for that matter, in a carnal sense.

My internal conflict seems to point me in the right direction as my hopes for an actual companion and partner in this are now smoldering with the last of the proposal letters. There is no other way to handle this marriage than to keep it completely devoid of emotion. This marriage will have to be just like a business arrangement if either of us are to keep our boundaries and sanity.

Grabbing my cloak of the rack, I fasten it under my chin and grab a handful of Floo powder from the mantle. Business is not intimidating, but turning marriage into a business calls for an expert in such manners. It would only be wise to seek out the one person who can help look at this objectively. Tossing the powder forcefully, I step into the hearth and enunciate, "Lucius Malfoy's Study!"

I am sure he won't mind my impromptu visit.

* * *

"Severus," Lucius drawls out the greeting without looking up from his desk. "Just because you have access to my Floo does not mean that you can drop in unannounced."

"If you were really concerned, you would have closed it off," I point out brushing off my robes dramatically. "I suppose you know why I am here?"

"Perhaps," he shrugs leaning back in his chair. "I assumed that you would be fluttering over as soon as the news reached you like some blithering schoolgirl with new gossip. Since you have yet to hex me, I can only assume that you are pleased with your match." He put on an arrogant smirk and pointed look.

"Oh, delighted," I say silkily to keep my sarcasm masked. Making my way to the decanter, I say, "Tell me, Lucius, dear old friend. How ever did you manage such an incredible feat? Even for you, this seems quite miraculous."

"Well, that is the magic isn't it?" he says proudly. "She certainly seems perfect for you, doesn't she? I couldn't be happier for you."

Shit. Shit, fuck, damn. Lucius has no idea. I figured he would have at least paid someone off to get a first glimpse of my match, but I guess he was being truthful when he said he didn't have as many strings to pull as he once did.

However, in my realization of his ignorance, I cannot pass on this opportunity to derive some entertainment while the rest of my life is slowly falling into such disarray.

"Thank you, Lucius," I reply turning back around with my drink in hand. I hold it up to toast. "It is a great comfort to know that you hold no grudges."

"Of course," he answers picking up a tumbler already in front of him. "We are friends." He tips his drink toward me and moves to take a sip.

"Then I suppose an apology will be in order?" I ask casually after my sip. He gives me a curious look from behind his glass and pauses mid swig. "You know, for trying to kill her in the Department of Mysteries a few years ago? Or for slipping that diary into her bag when she was eleven?"

A loud cough erupts as Lucius pushes his drink aside and begins beating on his chest. I lock my signature blank expression on my face and watch him with slightly raised eyebrows. Eyes blinking rapidly, Lucius stares back and regains his composure.

"Well," Lucius drones slowly and seriously. Tension begins radiating of him as he speaks. "I suppose… given the circumstances… an apology… however odd it may seem… is warranted… and would be… most… appropriate." He articulates every syllable like he is struggling to breath.

"Shut up, Lucius," I snap back rolling my eyes. That was fun, but I came here for a purpose. With Lucius now in my delicate circle of irritation, he might be more cooperative to answer my questions. "I know you didn't have any control over the match, so there is no need feel guilty about it."

"I hardly feel guilty," he denies with a slight relaxation coming from his shoulders. "If anything, I should be jealous." He gives that famous Malfoy sneer in an effort to cover his mistake.

"Don't lie," I quip.

"No lies," he maintains as he holds his hands up in surrender. "You must admit, she is a beautiful girl even if she is a wretched Weasley. Ginevra is her name, right? Lovely name. Even with her family's history, her blood is lovely, is it not?"

"I didn't come here to argue about blood status," I curtly respond to his leering. "I came for your wisdom and knowledge in the art of arranged marriages." There is a chair across from his desk that I settle myself into. To bring our conversation back to a less tense state, I lean back casually as if we are commentating on the weather.

"'Wisdom and knowledge in the art of arranged marriages'," he repeats pompously mirroring my leaned position in his own chair. "Severus, if I didn't know you were were mocking me, I would honestly think you were complimenting me."

"Lucius," I enunciate his name with warning. "Cut the crap. You have been in an arranged marriage for more than half your life and somehow you made it work. I need to know how to do this so I don't lose my mind."

Lucius releases a hearty chuckle and swirls his drink thoughtfully before he responds. "Arranged marriage," he muses thoughtfully for a moment before putting on a serious expression. "Severus, an arranged marriage is just that- a marriage of arrangements. Agreements between two people to make the situation bearable for both. At the end of the day it's all about compromise."

"Don't patronize me," I sneer with narrow eyes. "Compromise? Since when do you compromise?"

"All the time," he says honestly. "She agrees to play the part of a diligent wife when we are in public, and I give her all the funds she desires for shopping. She fulfills her duties as hostess for our parties, and in return I allow her to take her little out of country excursions as often as she likes."

"Oh, yes," I retort sarcastically, "That certainly sounds like you sacrifice."

"Who said anything about sacrifice?" Lucius asks with quizzical look. "A sacrifice would suggest that whatever I am giving up is more valuable than what I am taking. We are simply finding solutions that benefit us both. Anything different would tip these delicate scales and threaten to topple our entire state of contentment."

"And what if that were too happen? What then?"

"We are both too invested now," he shrugs nonchalantly. "We have spent many years in these types of transactions. Why ruin a good thing? A nasty divorce splashed across the front page of the Prophet for the whole world to gossip about is not a war worth fighting at this point. Perhaps if we never had children or if our name hadn't been so muddied in recent years, circumstances might have been different. But I don't have time for alternate scenarios and neither do you. You, my friend need to decide- what kind of arrangements will you make with your future wife?"

"Arrangement implies that we are equal in our resources," I say pointedly. "She is a child and a student. There is nothing she can offer me that I would find valuable enough to barter with."

"Nothing at all?" he hints slyly. I give him a look to warn him of the dangerous territory he is about to cross into. He ignores it and says, "I can see why you wouldn't want to cash in on the more carnal aspects of your relationship at this point in time, but one day perhaps you will indulge yourself. It would be most delightful from such a young-"

"Enough," I spit out harshly. "You know me well enough to understand that I have never, I repeat, never been one to partake in the raping of children for pleasure." We lock eyes in understanding of the darker part of our past. My reference is extreme, but I know that Lucius will not broach the subject again.

"Fine," he concedes after a moment. "But then you will have to find ways to make your marriage beneficial to both of you. She may be a child in your eyes, but I have seen the wrath of that woman on several occasions. Keeping her content is the only way to ensure you remain in your right mind. Misery is a place you never want to ever take an arranged marriage."

"But there is nothing to be arranged," I argue.

"There is always something to be arranged," he defends. "Everyone wants something and everyone has a price. You just need to find what the girl wants and decide what you price you are willing to pay. She wants to finish her education, then make her agree to stay out of your hair. You want to take on a mistress, give her something to ensure she won't spoil your good name. The key is to know what she wants and only give in when you get something you want in return."

So that is how it has worked all these years. Lucius gave Narcissa something she really wanted in exchange for her silence about his affairs. They weren't playing nice in their marriage, they were playing each other. Lies, deception, negotiation, and power. Elements of war running an entire marriage and fooling any outsider who didn't know better.

Seeing my perplexed look, Lucius sighs loudly. "Severus, it isn't as terrible as you are thinking. It just takes some time to get use to. You are a Slytherin. I know you can make this work in your favor."

"You are right," I agree finishing the last of my drink and standing up. "I was a double agent for years. This should be a piece of cauldron cake. You have given me much to think about, Lucius. Until next time." I bow my head in thanks and exit from whence I came. He stands at his desk to acknowledge my leave politely, knowing that this conversation will continue when I have mulled things over.

As I step into my own quarters, I start to focus on the task at hand like a puzzle. She and I have hundreds of pieces between us that we are going to have to match up into a single picture. We will start by matching up the edges to create a strong frame. With the border set, the gaps can be filled in as we go. Forcing certain pieces together will be futile and unproductive in getting to the end result, so it will require a substantial amount of patience on both our parts.

And how do you create a strong frame? You set boundaries. Rules. We just need to start out with some basic rules. Everyone has rules. As a teacher, I am a master at laying down the law, and as a student, she is use to following them. Perhaps that can be the starting point. It will be clear and easy, no miscommunication, no misunderstandings. Just basic house rules.

Looking at the clock, I see it is almost time for my meeting with Minerva. I have plenty of time, so the only logical thing to do is find my future wife and inform her that we need to meet soon. Leaving my dungeons, I head towards Gryffindor tower to find my redheaded problem.


	6. Chapter 6

I lay on my side with my back to the curtains and my front towards the wall. As hurt and angry as I am, I cannot cry. At least not here. Maybe Madame Pomfrey put something else in that potion because I am feeling pretty emotionally numb.

As I play the events over and over in my mind, I can't help but think about Harry. Did he receive a letter while he was out on the pitch with Ron, too? Will someone else be married to him? I thought he loved me. He said he wanted to marry me. We decided this was right. Did he change his mind? Did my insecurities over the last week drive him away?

The sound of a throat clearing pushes my thoughts away as I roll over to see the Headmistress standing just outside the parted curtains. She peers around before politely saying, "Miss Weasley. Pardon my intrusion, but I should like a word if you are feeling up to it." I nod, so she enters.

Sitting up on the bed, I watch her wave her wand and turn the vase of flowers into a chair on the side of my bed. I smile slightly and wonder if Madame Pomfrey told her about my outburst.

Even outside of her office, the Headmistress always carries herself with pride. She sits delicately like a queen on a throne, but keeps an expression on her face that I can only relate to one my mother puts on when she is trying comfort me.

"You had quite a fall, Miss Weasley. I trust Madame Pomfrey has fixed you up?" Her tone is sincere and concerned, but not overbearing or uncomfortable.

"Everything except my pride," I mumble. My face burns as I remember that I did collapse in front of the whole school.

"Well, your temper didn't seem to suffer," she quips with a raised eyebrow. Damn! She does know. I look away remorsefully and try to think of a good apology. She continues on before I can find it. "It seems that I have something of yours to return." The Headmistress pulls out the folded letter and sets it on the bed.

I stare at it for a moment and find all those numb emotions welling up inside me again. My eyes begin to water, but all I can say is, "Did you see it?"

She shakes her head with a stern look. "Miss Weasley, it is not my place to delve into your personal matters. However, it is obvious that letter contained the name of your intended and that name was not that of Mr. Potter's. Am I correct?"

I nod as the tears begin to gather in my eyes. "It's Professor Snape," I blurt out to keep the tears from falling. "My letter said Professor Snape."

If the Headmistress was shocked, her face did not show. Her eyes were frozen and lips were pursed, but that was it. In fact, the only emotion on her face I seem to find looks suspiciously like pity.

"Miss Weasley," she chimed in delicately. "I assume by now you realize that Professor Snape has also received a letter." I feel stupid. It should have occurred to me that he would get one as well.

"Is he angry?" Although, I am not afraid of him or what he could do to me, I am sure that he will blame Harry for this. Even in my anger, I cannot bring myself to want to ruin whatever weird relationship he and Harry have.

"I have yet to see him," she admits, but keeps her kind smile in place. "However, I can assume he was equally astonished considering that he was led to believe that you and Mr. Potter were planning to be engaged."

"Well, he wasn't the only one," I mumble sadly.

"I see," she nods slightly. Before she can continue her thought, the curtain opens wide and Professor Snape looms like a shadow of death before stepping in my room.

* * *

"Professor Snape," Minerva greets calmly as I step in the room. "I do apologize for neglecting to inform you that I would be late for our meeting. Would be so kind as to escort me to my office?"

Her presence surprises me. It was only by chance that I heard the portraits discussing my future wife's fainting spell as I started making my way to her dorm room. Certainly, I did not expect to meet her in the hospital wing.

"I would be happy to," I reply smoothly hiding my surprise. "I shall meet you right outside the door momentarily, Headmistress. I heard of my fiance's unfortunate and sudden illness, so I would like a few minutes with her. Alone."

Minerva's eyes lock on to mine in a warning glare. I stare back ferociously, keeping my facial expression unchanged. Finally she concedes and warns in a low voice, "Two minutes, Professor. Madame Pomfrey has given her specific orders for rest."

"I assure you, this will be a very quick chat," I promise. From out of the corner of my eye, I can see the girl shrinking away and paling by the second. Minerva gives a nod to me and exits as I hold the curtain back for her.

"Professor," she starts to say as I turn back around. "I don't really know what-"

"Stop, Miss Weasley," I cut her off. She pulls the blanket up around her like a child afraid of the dark. "By now we both know the decision has been made and there is nothing we can do about it. No point in denying it; this is not ideal for either of us. You will come to my office tomorrow night at seven o'clock to sort out the details of this appalling match. Understood?" She gives a slight nod, but doesn't look up to meet my eyes.

"Very well. I will see you then," I say shortly before sweeping out of the room quickly. Minerva is just outside the hospital wing gazing out an open window across the lake. I mockingly bow and hold out my hand to escort her. She huffs and brushes past as I follow at her heels. We say nothing on the long walk to her office.

Once Minerva is settled at her desk and I in the familiar chair across from her, she waves her wand. Two tumblers and a decanter of scotch appear on her desk. She pours us both a drink and then finally says, "So?"

"So, what?"

"You are quite calm," she observes taking a tiny sip of the amber liquid.

"Forgive me, but hysterical theatrics were never my strong suit." I leave my glass untouched on the desk and cross my arms.

Minerva rolls her eyes dramatically. "Of course not, how short sighted of me. However, I do believe this is not your first drink of the day?" I don't know how she knew, but I keep my face from betraying the truth.

"Even if it wasn't," I hint eyeing her pointedly. "I can say this is the first time I have been offered a drink preceding my annual review meeting. It would seem that I will either be praised to no end or you are about to tell me my contract has been terminated."

"Don't be such a git," she smirks. "You know very well that your review will no longer be on the agenda. But since we are here, perhaps you would like to enlighten me on your plan for the matter at hand. And before you try to deflect or evade this conversation, I am referring to your impending marriage to the youngest Weasley."

"I was not aware that Professor Weasley's child has entered the world already, however," I finally pick up my drink calmly, "I am quite positive that the law does not pertain to children under the age of seventeen. Even if that were true, I am sure that I would not be an appropriate match for a little boy since the point of the whole law would be negated. The experiments on creating a child between homosexual partners has yet to be successful. Certainly, it would make our lives easier, wouldn't you agree?" I take an exaggerated swig to add emphasis to my sarcasm.

"Severus," she says in a warning tone with a glare. "I am sure Bill and Fleur Weasley would sooner have Charlie set a dragon upon you than let you lay a hand on their unborn child." She slams her drink on the desk quite forcefully and waits.

I knew my sharp tongue would land me a reproachful look from her, so I focus my eyes and attention on the fine drink in my hand and begin to wonder how often the Headmistress indulges in such a strong liquor. I realize we will remain at an impasse until I respond properly.

"I am sure you will advise me of a plan whether I have devised one myself or not," I reply dryly. She may not be Albus Dumbledore, but she spent too much time in his company to not pick up his meddling habits.

"Okay, if that is the way you want to play it," she smirks as she reaches for a piece of parchment and a quill. "First off, I suggest you speak with Arthur and Molly as soon as possible to quell any concerns they may have."

"Yes, I am sure they are truly worried about their little girl being habitually raped by Death Eater," I sneer back.

"Secondly, the staff will need to be informed immediately," Minerva continues on ignoring my comment while scribbling furiously on the parchment.

"I don't really see why that would be necessary," I start to question, only to get cut off by Minerva.

"You will need my assistance in transfiguring your quarters to suit your new lifestyle, so I suppose I will need to come by sometime next week."

"Now, hold on there. You don't honestly think she will be living with-"

"And then there is the issue of the binding ceremony. Certainly, Miss Weasley, will want a wedding of some sort even if the circumstances aren't ideal. A trip to the ministry won't really suffice, not to mention, the press would have a hayday if they see the two of you-"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about? 'Wedding of some sort'? You aren't suggesting a circus of an event to give the illusion of happiness in-"

"I assume that a week would be sufficient for a proper honeymoon-"

"Minerva, I swear to Salazar Slytherin I will not be taking-"

"Thank goodness the school year should be over by the time she gives birth. We wouldn't want her education to suffer-"

"Birth? Her education? What about my sanity?"

"-And the children will certainly need plenty of room in the dungeons-"

"ENOUGH YOU BLASTED WOMAN!" The words erupt from my mouth as I jump to my feet and aim my wand at her chest ominously. "You will stop right there, or I will curse you with such a horrendous hex, your Headmistress's portrait will need to be repainted to mirror the grotesque consequences of your actions!"

Minerva stops writing and lays the quill delicately next to her parchment. She lifts her eyes and I spot that damned signature twinkle Albus so often had. It is apparent she conjured this little performance for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of me. Relenting to defeat, I take my seat and drink deeply from my glass before answering her.

After the burning sensation in my throat subsides, I relay my conversation with Lucius about turning out marriage into a series of suitable arrangements and my plans to start with a few ground rules. Minerva listens intently, nodding her head and occasionally allowing a thoughtful expression to cross her face.

"As much as it pains me to agree with anyone from the Malfoy family," she says after I finish my speech, "The approach to your predicament has its merit. The man has been in a successful arranged marriage for a quarter of a century and he seems to be happy with his situation,"-I smirk knowing Minerva has no idea of the other witches who keep him in that state- "so it would seem only logical to give his method the trial effort."

"I couldn't agree more, Headmistress," I say finishing my drink. Placing the glass on her desk, I stand to leave and say, "If there is nothing else to discuss, I must be off. You know how it is planning all the extravagant details of my upcoming nuptials."

She lets out a hearty and relaxed laugh. "Hilarious," she quips sarcastically as she rises from behind the desk. She crosses to the door as I reach for it and puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Severus, just one thing before you go," Minerva stops me with a serious expression as I turn back around to face her. "You are a master of control. A strong quality that I admire and respect. It is amazing the way you command control of your entire being, your students, your actions, your entire person. However, I ask you to be mindful that Miss Weasley is your partner in this endeavour. Controlling her will be like trying to put a leash on a dragon. And forcing her into submission to your will makes you no better than the Dark Lord himself."

Her words cut me like a hot knife on butter. Although I understand what she is getting at, the painful memory of my service is too ripe. References to my mistakes will haunt me for the rest of my life, but that doesn't mean I enjoy hearing them. To keep my temper in check, I simply nod and bid her good day. She may be Headmistress, but that doesn't make her advise any more palatable than the words Albus use to give me.

One minute the blasted woman agrees that my plan fine and the next she is worried that I am going to wield absolute authority over her being! Minerva is absolutely maddening!

By the time I reach the dungeons, her words are replaying in my head like an annoying record of banshee wails. If anything, Minerva has pushed me to tighten my grip on the reigns of this doomed arrangement. She of all people should know the importance of setting rules for teenagers. You give a centimeter and they take a meter.

With my resolve stronger than ever, I settle at my desk to get some grading done until dinner time comes. My rage over her accusations begins to reflect in the red ink bleeding across the essays like lash marks from whipping.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up this morning still in the hospital wing. The instant Madame Pomfrey released me, I spent the day keeping my head down in class and avoiding all human contact in the time between them. Thankfully, I was able to slip past the Golden Trio each time they spotted me.

After my last class of the day, I realized my friends weren't the only problem now. I spent so much time focused on them, I completely forgot about my meeting with Professor Snape.

Flopping on my bed, I start to contemplate not going. There is the strong possibility that he will just send a nasty note or have the headmistress summon me. Then I realize as much I don't want to face him, I am more terrified of facing his wrath for not showing up. My watch says I have an hour, so I go to the shower and begin getting ready.

A nice hot shower should have relaxed my nerves, but all it did was bring all my thoughts back to the same one word question I asked the day before. Why? Unable to wallow in my anxiety anymore, I turn off the water and step out. Wrapping myself in a fluffy white towel, I stand in front of the mirror to examine my reflection.

My face is pale and my eyes prove I did not sleep much the previous night. Wet crimson locks run down over my shoulders, almost to my waist. I haven't cut it in ages just because Harry loves running his hands through my hair. He loves my long red hair. The thought infuriates me.

I rush over to my desk and pull out a pair of scissors. Before I can stop, I begin cutting the hair viciously. I don't even care if it is straight, I just hack it off until it collects in a mess on the floor. Without a second thought I point my wand and mutter a spell to incinerate it.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is just barely past the top of my shoulders in uneven chunks. To keep myself from mourning about my rash decision I quickly french braid it into a two paits.

With little time left to reminisce, I throw on my school uniform and begin my descent to the dungeons. The walk forces me to walk past the Great Hall. Quickening my pace, I turn the corner and collide quite forcefully with a solid black mass that nearly knocks me to the ground. Hands grab my shoulders to keep me from crashing to the floor and it takes everything in my power to not scream as I realize Professor Snape is in front of me

I look up to see he has no expression on his face, but I can see from his raised eyebrows that he is startled. His black eyes sweep over my face and settle on my braids flopped resting at my shoulders. He opens his mouth, probably to make a snide comment, but he stops himself and catches my gaze.

Our eyes lock together for a split second and it feels like all noise suddenly becomes silent. I suddenly remember Harry telling me about him using Legilimency on people without them even realizing it, so I look away wondering if the sudden reduction in sound is a side effect. I blink rapidly and start flicking my eyes in his direction to see what he is going to do next.

"A slower pace might be more appropriate, Miss Weasley," he says coldly. I look up hesitantly and give a slight nod. His eyes make one last sweep over my hair and he rolls his eyes. I have no idea what is going through his mind, but I'm not sure I want to. He pushes me to the side firmly and continues past me towards the dungeons as I follow like a scolded child.

His office is the type of setting Fred and George would use when telling a scary story to Ron and I when we were little. It is freezing, dimly lit, and eerily quiet despite the noise carried from the rest of the castle. He sits at his desk and motions for me to take the hard backed seat across from him. It is just far enough away from the desk that it feels isolated and ominous.

I keep my eyes on the front of the desk as I sit down. His obsidian eyes are boring into me, but I dare not look up. It seems ridiculous to think he will try to read my mind, but I am not going to risk it. At least not until I can figure out why he called me here.

"Miss Weasley, I have called you here today to discuss the state of our engagement," he states. It makes me wonder if he can read my mind without eye contact, but I still keep my eyes from making contact with him. "It seems that you and I have been arranged to be married regardless of how ill suited this match is. I am sure that someone of your age would wish for some sort of flamboyant celebration, but I decline to-"

"No," I cut him off. My own voice startles me, but I continue on. "I don't want anything. I don't want anyone to know."

"Don't be childish," he says coldly. "No doubt, it will only be a matter of time before Potter and his new fiance are discovered, leaving everyone to question who you are partnered be with. It has been brought to my attention that a trip to the Ministry would provide a feeding frenzy for the press, so the ceremony will take place here at the school. Under the law we will need two witnesses. I will select one and you may select the other."

"I don't want anyone," I say quieter than before, almost hoping he doesn't hear me. Of course, he does.

"None?" he questions with raised eyebrows. It is obvious he thinks I would be demanding my one of my friends, but I don't say anything. "Very well, then. I assume your family will wish to be present?"

My family? I give a shrug. I haven't given much thought about the particulars. "To be honest, I haven't really thought about much since the letter came," I say daring to raise my eyes a little. He rolls his eyes as I say, "I am still trying to get use to the idea of you and me-"

He hold his hand up and shakes his head. "If you did not cut your brain out along with your hair, then you should be smart enough to not finish that sentence."

My eyes snap up to meet his in confusion. The idea of us getting married shouldn't cause him to reprimand me. From his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw I can tell he thought I was going to say something entirely different. It takes only two seconds for me to realize he thought was talking about us being together...in bed.

"No, Sir," I stammer as my face burns in embarrassment. "I mean yes, Sir. I mean, that wasn't what I was trying to say. I just meant-"

"Please refrain from speaking, Miss Weasley," he interrupts again. "As articulate as you are, I must ask you to hold any further comments on this conversation until I have finished or else we may be here all night."

This time, I roll my eyes. How am I supposed to marry this man? He is condescending, cruel, and loves to humiliate me. We can't even have a simple conversation without me sounding like a moron and him relishing in my stuttering.

"As I was saying," he continues on without pause, "we have one month to complete the ceremony. It will be three Saturdays from now because I have other affairs to attend to on the last available Saturday. From that point on, you will be required to share my quarters."

"Why can't I stay in my in my room?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. My hand claps over my mouth and he gives me an irritated look to remind me I was supposed to be quiet.

"Cohabitation may not be a requirement of this law," he said sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "And believe me when I say I am not thrilled about the idea either. However, due to certain requirements that must be fulfilled, it would be most inappropriate for the rest of the school to be aware of our personal habits."

The fire in my face returns as I comprehend what he means- the whole school will know when we shag if I have stay in my room. My stomach churns suddenly at the image of us in bed floating in my mind. Before I can stop it, I lean over the side of the chair and vomit violently. It amazes me that anything can be in my stomach since I intentionally skipped lunch earlier.

When my panting stops, I cover my face with my hand in shame. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a look of disgust on his face as he vanishes the mess with his wand. By the time I turn back to him, the usual blank mask is back on his face.

"If you are quite finished with the hysterics, please follow me this way," he commands rising from the desk. Thankful that he doesn't make any further comment about my reaction, I follow him silently out of the office and down to the end of the corridor, past the potions class rooms. We enter through the heavy wooden door and turn left to walk down a long hallway to a set of stairs as he continues with his instructions.

"This is the main entrance to my quarters. There is a second through my private lab to my office, but it will be off limits for the duration of your stay. Students from my house know not to bother me in my chambers unless it is an emergency, so I will expect your personal visitors to have the same courtesy. My privacy is very important to me."

We come to another door with iron snakes etched in the wood. Snape places his hand flat against the door and the snakes rise out of the wood to form a circle around his hand. It glows for a second before he pushes firmly and the door swings open with ease. We cross the threshold and I see his tastefully decorated sitting room.

Of course I expected everything to be black and dreary, but that isn't the case. The sitting room is a combination of deep green with accents of tan and cherrywood furniture. It is cozy with wall of books and a large fireplace. There is a sofa, a couple of armchairs, small end tables, and even a few decorative pictures hanging on the walls. If I weren't scared out of my mind, I would feel comfortable in this room.

"I will reset the wards to your touch the day of the ceremony. When you enter, your cloak will go on the rack and not thrown about. I like everything in order, so I will not tolerate a mess. You are welcome to read anything in these bookshelves, but please do not damage my property," he says gesturing to a wall of books. Hermione would salivate if she could see them.

We continue on down a short hallway and he points to an open archway. "You may use the kitchen or take your meals with your friends in the Great Hall. I do not care what you choose, but if you make a mess, I expect you to clean it up. House elves do not clean here everyday. I take most of my meals here, so be respectful of that as well."

I have no idea what he means by that, but I can only assume he means that he doesn't want me to dine with him. He looks for a response from me, so I give him nod and lower my eyes. We continue down the hall as he continues to point out various doors.

"My chambers are here, you are not to enter them unless I have given you permission. Once I retire for the evening, I do not wish to be disturbed unless there is an emergency. They will be warded, so I will know if you go snooping around.

"The study is here on the right. I could not fit a desk in your room, so I placed one in there for you to use for your schoolwork. You are not to touch anything in the study besides your own desk. The books are off limits and warded to prevent tampering.

"My private lab is this room here. If you fail to find me in my office or study, you can assume I will be in here. Again, you are not to enter it unless I give you permission and I wish to be left alone unless there is an emergency.

"This is your room here," he finally says leading me to the room at the end of the hallway. "There is a fully functional bathroom connected to your chambers for your use. The house elves maintain the housekeeping just as they do in your common room. They take laundry Saturdays and return it Sunday Mornings. If there is a laundry emergency, let me know and I will have an elf take care of it."

I peek inside to see a room almost identical to the dorm Hermione and I share, minus the red and gold decorations. The walls are bare and the sheets and blanket are a cream color. Everything in this room is bland. There is no color, no life, no hope. Nothing in it feels homey or happy.

"You are still a student and I am still a teacher, so the rules still apply here as they would in your dorm room. Any visitors you have will follow my rules as well. Understood?" I nod like I have been throughout this little tour.

"You do speak, do you not?" he drawls in a bored tone.

"Yes, sir. I do when I have something to say," I retort curtly. "I understand basic rules. I am not an idiot."

"I see," he say sarcastically. I am almost more than positive he hates me. Honestly, I don't care if he does, but he could at least acknowledge my effort in this situation.

"That is all Miss Weasley. You may leave." Without a second glance back, I hurry out the door. Once the door to his chambers is firmly shut behind me, I sprint down the hallway. I have no idea where I am going, but I feel like I am running for my life.

* * *

I stare after the girl as she rushes out of the dungeons.

Insolent teenagers. Her flippant attitude is gnawing on my last nerve.

Running into me and nearly knocking me over in the hallway was a bit irritating, but nothing that hasn't happened in my twenty years of teaching. Even vomiting on the floor of my office was unconventional, but nothing I can't handle. However, refusing to acknowledge my efforts and remaining silent is just plain rude.

I offered to let her have one of her friends witness at the ceremony, but she absolutely turned her nose up at the idea. She did not ask a single question or make any contribution to the conversation except to tell me that she has thought about me bedding her. Of all the things for her to say and that is what comes to her mind? Unbelievable.

All my efforts to make sure she has a glimpse of how I live my life are wasted. She just stands aloof with her eyes to the floor like she could care less that I am making an effort. It is so disrespectful and childish. My original plans to try to compromise with her were dashed the instant she figuratively spat on my humble dwelling. Now, I just want her out of my sight and out of my way until she can grow up.

But now I have to push my anger aside for the time being because I have a particularly grueling meeting to attend to in the Headmistresses. I reward my quarters and star the long trek back upstairs. Thank goodness the walk is long. It should help placate me before I get there.


	8. Chapter 8

"Severus!" comes the hearty greeting as I enter the circular office. Minerva stands at her desk as Arthur and Molly Weasley turn around in their chairs. The sorrowful expression on their faces makes me wonder if they attribute my impending wedding to their daughter to the death of another one of their brood.

Nodding curtly, I cross the room and stand by the window in the shadows. Molly Weasley is probably the most facially expressive person I have ever met. In the past, it didn't take much to know what she is thinking, but today is very different. Her eyes flickered to me briefly before dropping back to her lap in a blank stare. I'm not usually one for sympathy, but this woman is not the Molly I know.

Arthur is only slightly better. While his wife remains motionless, he rubs his temples and shifts in his chair anxiously. His eyes are just as dark as his wife's, but at least there is some movement behind them. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Molly suffered a Dementor's Kiss while Arthur watched.

"I was just informing the Weasley's of their daughter's letter and was about to tell them of your plans you have made concerning the ceremony," Minerva informs me while keeping her eyes on the parents. "Severus has just had a meeting with your daughter to let her know as well."

"And what plans have been made?" Arthur asks in a very detached fashion. Over the years, I have watched the man display more emotions than I care to recount. However, the expected fury does not show in his words or expression. Just cold resignation.

"I believe that a ceremony taking place at the Ministry would be too stressful for everyone involved, so I have approval from Kingsley to perform the ceremony here on school grounds. I intend to have it in one of the larger spare classrooms that can be redecorated to suit guests in attendance."

"Redecorating? Guests?" Arthur asks in puzzlement. "Are you suggesting a wedding celebration?"

"I suppose that is up to whatever your daughter and Professor Snape agree upon," she answers with a shrug. All eyes turn to me in expectation.

"Well," I clear my throat to stall for a moment. "Miss Weasley and I both agree that a small ceremony of only family members would be ideal. I offered to let her select one of her friends to be a witness, but the idea did not appeal to her. Perhaps you and Mrs. Weasley would like to select a family member to do the honors instead?"

Molly keeps her eyes in her lap and Arthur raises his eyebrows slightly. "I suppose we could do that. Thank you, Severus."

I give a slight bow before Minerva continues on. "As you are aware, students getting married is not something the school has had to deal with in over a century, but from the historical documents I have found, there were temporary solutions put in place to accommodate married students and their children." She says the last word so delicately and quietly, I almost miss it. Arthur, however, does not.

He blanches as if the thought just occurred to him. I close my eyes in the expectation that he will fly off the handle, but instead he ignores the statement about children and asks, "I don't suppose there is anything in those historical documents on what happens when a student and teacher marry?"

"It is a very rare occurrence that has only happened once or twice in the history of the school," Minerva explains calmly. "However, in those instances, the student and teacher were married out of choice and not at the demand of a law. Therefore, Severus and I have both agreed that it might be more appropriate for your daughter to share living quarters with Severus to ensure their privacy."

Arthur's flushes crimson at Minerva's last statement. This conversation is taking a turn for the worse, so I jump in. "What the Headmistress is trying to say is that your daughter's old dorm room is surrounded by many students and she may be more comfortable in my quarters. As the head of Slytherin, I also need to be close to the students in my house, so it is only logical that Miss Weasley relocate to the dungeons."

"Logical," he repeats as his tone rises. The signature Weasley temper finally starts to show as he questions. "Does any of this seem logical to you? Does anyone in this room see any logic in the situation at hand? Well?" His wrath is nothing compared to Molly's, but I can see the flame in his eyes as he locks his gaze on me.

Before I can respond, a small voice speaks. "Arthur? Darling?" We all look at Molly, who has now looked up to put her hand on her husband's. "This isn't his fault or the school's fault. Just let them do their job."

Arthur looks stunned at his wife's words. Many times over the years, Molly's loud demands have left Arthur completely cowering in submission. I'm not sure if it is the quiet way she spoke or the calm demeanor she is carrying, but Arthur is rendered speechless.

"Molly, dear," he tries. "It isn't their job to decide what is best for our daughter. Your daughter, Molly. We are talking about Ginevra here, not some random student."

"Arthur," Minerva addresses him calmly. "I have taught your daughter over the last seven years and I like to think of all my students, especially those in my house, as my own children. You are right that it isn't my job to decide what is best, but I will not hesitate to give anyone in this room sound advice. At the end of the day, the decision does rest with Professor Snape and Miss Weasley." She throws me a look urging me to remain silent, not that I really want to speak. I would rather disappear on the spot.

"Of course, of course," he retracts. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. This is all just so sudden and unexpected. We don't even know how this happened. Last we heard, she was intending on marrying Harry. Do either of you have any idea what went wrong?"

"I'm sure we are all curious," Minerva agreed. "But that is really neither here nor there. I'm sure all will be revealed in due time, but when and why is up to Miss Weasley and Mister Potter. For now, I think our energy would be best focused on the more pressing issues at hand."

Arthur takes a minute to mull it over before responding. "Yes, I agree. No point worrying about the things we cannot change." He stands up and stretches a hand toward Minerva. "Thank you, Minerva. We really couldn't be more grateful for your assistance."

"I'm happy to be of service," she replies humbly. Arthur turns to me holds his hand out as well.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," he apologizes. "After what you did for Harry during the war, I am sure there is no need to worry about leaving my daughter in your hands."

Not trusting myself to make a snide comment back, I simply nod and shake his hand. Arthur takes Molly's hand as she stands and starts to lead her to the door, but instead she crosses the room to me.

I'm not one to cower under the gaze of Molly Weasley, but I can feel myself shrink back into the corner. She stops right in front of me and looks me dead in the eyes. The pain conveyed in her warm brown eyes tells me there is still a piece of the old Molly in there somewhere. Before I can come up with something to say, she pulls me into hug.

"Take care of her," she whispers so only I can hear. I freeze and refuse to return her embrace, but she just keeps hold of me as she continues on. "I know there is good in you. Please be good to her."

No response comes to mind as she pulls away and turns back to her husband. He gives me one last nod and they exit, leaving me still frozen and Minerva wide-eyed in shock.

"Close your mouth, Minerva," I sneer straightening my robes. "It is not very dignified."

Rolls her eyes and sits back in her chair. "Well, that went better than expected."

"You call that a success?" I question sarcastically. "I've duels with Death Eaters that were less morbid."

"Doubtful," she quips as I take a seat across from her that Arthur previously occupied. She thinks for a moment and then says, "I take it your meeting with Miss Weasley wasn't any better?"

"A complete waste of my time," I reply. "Three weeks and I will be permanently bound to her for the next two decades. Merlin help me!"

"Then we all better hope that someone in the Ministry gets some sense and overturns the law," she responds immediately. "But until then, try to look on the bright side."

"Is there a bright side?" She gives me devilish smile.

"Somewhere out there, some unlucky witch is about to become a permanent relation of Augusta Longbottom," she jokes as a shudder runs through me.

I suppose there are worse things in life.

* * *

My feet bring me back to the dorms. I am exhausted, hungry and completely agitated after that terrible meeting with Snape. I practically shout the password at the Fat Lady when I arrive. Lo and behold, who is standing there? Only the last person in the world I want to see.

"Ginny!" Harry shouts, but I turn back around and run out of the tower. I can hear his footsteps behind me as he sprints after me down the corridor. I nearly make it to the front door of the castle before he finally catches me.

"Wait! Stop!" he shouts as he grabs my arm to pull me back. Completely tired and out of breath, I try to resist, but he is stronger. His firm hands hold my shoulders while I catch my breath.

"Gin, please," he begs. "Talk to me. What is going on? Where have you been? Hermione said something happened in the Great Hall, but she wouldn't give me any more details. Are you alright? And what happened to your hair?"

As my breath returns to normal, I begin to seethe with rage. "You don't _know_ what's going on but the only thing you are worried about is my hair?" I ask incredulously. "Didn't you receive a letter? Shouldn't that tell you everything you need to know?" Confusion is evident on his face as he shakes his head.

"Of course I didn't get a letter. We are going to be married. I sent in the- Oh, shit!" He stops abruptly and steps back. All the blood leaves his face as his hands reach up and grab his head in a panic. A pained howl erupts from him as he walks up to the nearest wall and slams his fist into the stone.

"What the fuck is going on, Harry?" I snarl at him. "What are you not telling me?" He drops to his knees in front of me and takes my hands fearfully.

"I am so sorry," he cries out, looking up at me pathetically. "I forgot. I didn't mean to, but I was busy and distracted. The papers were signed, I swear. I just had to send them."

Snatching my hands from his grasp, I pull my wand and aim at his chest. In the most murderous tone I have ever used, I hiss, "Harry James Potter. You tell me this instant what is going on or so help me, you are going to wish you were dead!"

He shuts his eyes and his voice cracks as he starts explaining. "Last week was just so busy. Quidditch practice, the last depositions I had to give to Kingsley, all of it. I was on my way to send the papers on Saturday when I ran into you outside the library. It just slipped my mind."

"It just slipped your mind," I repeat. "It just slipped your mind? You son of a bitch! Because of you, I now have to marry Snape!" He pales, as my rant turns into shrieking. "Do you have any idea what this means? I am going to have to fuck Snape! Severus Fucking Snape, Death Eater and Arse Extraordinaire! I am going to have to get knocked up by a fucking teacher!"

His eyes look past me and widen, but I ignore whoever is behind me and send a nasty hex straight to Harry's chest. Knocked to the ground, he blinks in confusion for a minute before rolling to his side as boils begin popping up all over his body.

"Harry," I scream. "I swear to Circe, if you ever come near me again, I'll-"

"That is enough," a calm voice by my side cuts me off. I whirl around to see my worst nightmare gathered in front of me. Mum lowers my wand hand to my side as my father stands a short distance away with his mouth hanging open and Professor McGonagall next to him. Off to the side is a very disdainful looking Snape.

"Ginevra," my mother continues in her serene tone. "You've done enough." Harry moans below me in pain as I look at everyone watching me. From collective silence, it doesn't take a Legilimens to know they witnessed everything.

"Arthur," McGonagall instructs. "Would you and your wife kindly escort Mister Potter to the hospital wing?" Mum and Dad silently help Harry to his feet and lead him back through the halls of the castle. As Harry turns the corner, he shoots me one last hurt look over his shoulder.

"Now for you," she says sternly turning to me once they are out of sight. "I am so disappointed in you, Miss Weasley. No matter what that boy did, hexing another student-"

"An unarmed student at that, Headmistress," Snape interjects snidely as McGonagall shoots him a stern look for interrupting.

"-an unarmed student, puts you in violation of school rules," she finishes hotly. "You could have seriously injured Mister Potter! I understand you are upset, but you are out of line, young lady. Fifty points from Gryffindor for using unauthorized magic in the corridors and in a malicious manner towards another student. And you will have detention with me later this week."

"Headmistress," Snape cut in with a vicious sneer. "I think an additional loss of thirty points would be appropriate for vulgarity and foul language. Perhaps even fifty if you include her crime of speaking disrespectfully about a teacher." I give Snape a look of death, but he ignores me completely and waits for McGonagall to respond.

Professor McGonagall shoots him brief look of irritation before conceding to his point. "An extra thirty should suffice as punishment." Snape gives a satisfied smirk in my direction as McGonagall dismisses me back to my common room.

As furious as I am about losing points for my house, I would do it all over again.

* * *

 

"Really, Severus?" Minerva turns to me as soon as the girl is out of sight. "If I didn't know any better I would say you were offended by something she said."

"Rules are rules," I simply state. "Do you think I would have suggested differently if it had been Potter as the attacker?"

"You would have suggested he be expelled," she retorts rubbing her temples. I just shrug because she is probably right. She thinks for a moment and then looks at me. "Perhaps you should check on Mister Potter in the infirmary."

A bark of laughter escapes me. "Pardon? I'm not setting foot anywhere near him! If he heard a word of what the girl said, there is no doubt he will try to hex me as soon as I enter the room."

"Then it is a good thing you will be close to Poppy for immediate treatment," she smiles sweetly. I scowl angrily, so she adds, "Mister Potter has never been one to follow directions. I think it would be best if you talk some sense into him. Approaching Miss Weasley again will only bring forth the same outcome, but I have a feeling he might try again."

"I might enjoy seeing him at the business end of her wand again. Why would I stop him from his own stupidity? Or better yet, what makes you think he will listen to me over you?" Potter is the last person I want to talk to right now.

"Because you are the only one that can reassure him that she will be fine," she wisely points out. "He is losing the love of his life to a man he has never really been fond of. Besides, something tells me that you might have experience in the area of letting someone go and giving them the space they ask for." She flashes me a knowing look, so I just roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively.

"Furthermore," she concludes. "I know Poppy will need some slave for those boils. I believe a specific cure like that is one you only keep in your private stores."

She turns to leave, but I call out after her, "I think I am out of Boil Ointment."

"Really?" She looks over her shoulder as she is about to round the corner. "Funny, I'm sure I saw it on the top shelf between the Dittany and Burn Salve just the other day." She gives a smug look before leaving me to curse under my breath.

Damn woman is as just as meddlesome as Albus was.


	9. Chapter 9

Potter immediately cringes as I step through the curtained off entrance to his room. Poppy is handing him a pain potion, calming draught, and an anti-inflamatory skin potion. He drinks them as Poppy turns to me in surprise.

"Headmistress had me fetch an ointment to treat Potter with," I explain setting the cream on the table next to him. "She also asked me to have a word with Potter. _Alone_."

"Of course, Professor," Poppy nods. "I need to check on my other patients anyway. Excuse me." She leaves and closes the curtain behind her as I cast a silent Muffliato charm.

If I wasn't so amused by Potter sitting with his arms away from his body like a mummy, I might actually feel bad for the boy covered with snitch sized boils every few inches. His face is twisted in a pained look, but his eyes look as fearful as ever.

"Once the anti-inflammatory potion starts working on reducing the swelling of those boils, you will need to rub the cream on each one every hour for the next six hours, give or take," I instruct.

He just stares back blankly.

"'Yes, Sir,' would be an appropriate response, Potter," I snap. He just looks down, probably embarrassed he was hexed by his former girlfriend. It almost makes me laugh out loud to think that The-Boy-Who-Lived was no match for The-Girl-With-The-Temper.

I don't have time for his moping, so I turn to leave. "By the way, your Headmistress has asked that you refrain from seeking out Miss Weasley from this day forward. Unless, of course, you think her next round of curses won't border on life threatening, then I would just ask that you not get blood on the new floors."

"Professor?" he calls out when I push the curtain aside. I turn back around and wait for what promises to be a pitiful statement. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Honest. I was really on my way to send the engagement contract on Saturday when I ran into her outside of the library. You saw her. She was upset so I tried to calm her down."

Unmoved by his statement, I fold my arms across my chest. "Then all the more reason for you to have made sure you sent off that letter," I declare harshly.

He shakes his head sorrowfully and protests. "I got distracted! She was so stressed and anxious that I couldn't just walk away, so we talked for a while. When she felt better, then she took me to an empty classroom and-"

"Good Godric Gryffindor, Potter," I nearly shout holding my hand up to cut him off. "Miss Weasley has already lost your house eighty points for vulgar language. If you have any love for your house's cup standing or value your life in any way, you will not finish that story."

He flushes as he realizes he almost said too much. Under his breath, I hear him mutter, "I was just trying to explain why I forgot."

"I have the idea, Potter, I don't need details," I reply curtly. He slumps his shoulders like a petulant child. Annoyed, I repeat my earlier statement. "You just need to stay away from Miss Weasley."

Those haunting emerald eyes snap up to mine instantly as he whines, "But we are in love! She is pissed at me, but I know she still loves me."

"And yet, she asked you to leave her be," I snap impatiently. "You forfeited the privilege of her company when you neglected to send that contract in."

"I told you it was an accident!"

"Accident or not, you still betrayed her trust," I remind him. "If you love her, you will respect her wishes."

"I can't just give up," he declares. "I have to make things right."

"You missed your chance to make this right and now we _all_ must live with the consequences of _your_ action," I spit furiously. "I did not choose your little girlfriend as my bride, but now she is my responsibility. You have no one to blame but yourself."

"But you don't even love her!"

"I do not need to love Miss Weasley to be married to her," I bark viciously. "And this isn't about me, this is about you, Potter. You messed up. You are the reason for all of this. And let me be clear about one thing; pining after another man's wife is not only childish, but extremely inappropriate."

"Kind of like how you pined after my mother?" He remarks under his breath, but I catch every word. His statement plushes me to a new level of irritation as I grab the front of his robes and bring him close to my face.

"Except the difference between you and I, is that I respect a woman's wishes even when she was angry with me." He glares back at me with pure hatred for a moment, but then his gaze falters and he looks away mournfully.

"I can't do that," he croaks pitifully. He looks like he is about a second away from crying as he adds, "I have to get her back."

I release him and step back, placing a my best sneer on my face. "Get her back? The time for winning her over has passed. She will be married to me in three weeks."

"Your marriage will just be a facade. We love each other and if she just gets past her anger, we could be happy." As soon as the words come out, his eyes widen and he clasps his hand over his mouth knowing he went too far.

"Is it my understanding that you are going to try to seduce my wife into an affair?" I question in astonishment. With his jaw firmly set I know that is exactly what the bold little bastard is thinking. Seething with rage, I loom over him ominously. "Listen carefully, Potter, because I am only going to say this once. There may be no love between Miss Weasley and I, but I do expect her to remain faithful to me, even in this sham of a marriage. Should she choose to allow your friendship to continue, then I expect you to respect her marital status."

"If you don't love her, why do you care who she loves?"

"I WILL NOT BE MADE A FOOL!" I roar back at him. He cowers on the bed as I tower over him, nearly panting with all the rage I feel over his disrespect. Cursing inwardly at losing my temper, I regain my composure and straighten my shoulders as I fold my arms over my chest. I reset my tone to my most authoritative teaching voice and finish my thought calmly.

"As it stands, she does not wish for you to be around her any longer, so I will tell you this one time and one time only. If you do not stay away from Miss Weasley from this point forward, not only will I allow her hex you into oblivion, I will assist her in the endeavour to ensure the idea gets through your thick skull."

Potter was never one to control his feelings, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He glares at me furiously for a moment before rolling his eyes and looking away.

"You will stay away from her," I repeat one last time as I turn to exit the room. I wave my wand to release the spells. I give him one chance to repent as I ask, "Do I make myself clear?"

He mumbles a haughty, "Yes, Sir," without even looking at me. I can see his mind working out the problem and making plans. Damn boy is going to get himself in trouble yet again.

As much as it perturbs me that this conversation was a waste of time, I take solace in the fact that the girl's famous temper will not subside as easily as he believes. The longer he continues to push her, the harder she will resist until Potter finds himself back in the hospital wing sooner than anyone expects and probably with much worse injuries.

I almost can't wait for Potter to screw up yet again.

* * *

I throw the door open with a loud bang and slam it shut with equal force. Hermione is on her bed, but visibly starts and drops the book she is reading. I let out a frustrated growl and fling myself on my bed as Hermione leaps off hers and stands over me.

"Ginny, are you-"

"He forgot!" I cut her off. "He fucking forgot to send in it in!"

Hermione looks confused as she tries to piece it together. "Uh, what?"

"Harry never sent in our engagement letter," I burst out sitting back up. "I have spent the last twenty four hours trying to figure out how this happened only to find out he forgot!"

Hermione continues to stare back as I grab my pillow and scream into it. She stands at a distance for a minute and then sits apprehensively at the edge. I can tell she is trying not ask the questions burning on her tongue. Calming slight, I launch into the entire story about receiving the letter of betrothal to Snape, my awful tour of my new living quarters, and the run in with Harry. She listens quietly without interruption, only nodding every so often or conjuring an appropriate facial expression at the correct times.

When I finally finish and catch my breath, she rubs her face with shakes her head. "I am so sorry, Ginny. When that letter showed up, I had no idea what to do or what was happening. I didn't want to make any assumptions or jump to conclusions."

"It's fine," I tell her. She bites her lip apologetically as I reassure her. "Honestly, I didn't even fully know or understand what was happening. And I am sorry for yelling at you yesterday in the hospital wing. In fact, I should be thanking you for keeping everything quiet, especially with Ron and…" I don't finish, but she knows the other name I don't say.

"It wasn't my place," she shrugs. "What kind of friend would I be if I went around gossiping about your private life?"

"It will only be a matter of time before word gets out," I reminder her miserably.

"But not from me," she insists. I just give her a small grateful smile and we sit in silence for a minute. Finally, she looks over at me sympathetically and asks, "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't have a choice," I reply sadly. "I wouldn't know how to live like a Muggle, so I can't refuse."

"No, I mean about Harry," she clarifies delicately.

I shrug yet again. "Right now I don't ever want to see him again. If he fell off the face of the planet, he would still be too close."

"I still can't believe you didn't get expelled for hexing him," she grins slyly. "I would say you are lucky, but that would be an ironic thing to say."

Her joke releases some of my tension, so I chuckle slightly. "It wouldn't matter if she did expel me, I will be living with Snape in three weeks anyway." A smile passes between us.

"I just can't believe he is treating you so… detatched," she adds afterwards. "Neither of you are happy about this, but he doesn't have to be such…"

"An arse?" I finish. She opens her mouth to argue, but then concedes that my description was spot on.

"At least he isn't going to try to stop your education," she points out. "He may have his weird rules, but they seem to be more about keeping his life from changing too drastically rather than hindering yours."

"Seriously?" I question incredulously. "If he had his way, it sounds like he would just keep me in some locked basement completely out of sight and out of mind. He wants nothing to do with me, but he wants to control everything I do when I am around."

"Wizarding law gives a husband complete and utter control over a wife," Hermione reminds me. "If he really wanted to, he could end your education, force you to never leave his quarters, and the law would allow it. I think demanding control over the world around him is just one of the ugly side effect from years of being a spy."

"And being completely callous is another," I reiterate. "Don't you understand? This is the man I am going to have to live with for the next twenty years of my life. My biggest fear when all this started was not being able to enjoy life the way I wanted. But now I wonder if there will be any joy at all."

"Don't think like that," she says wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Your life maybe changing, but not everything has to as well. You still have Quidditch and classes and friends. I'm still here and so is Ron, Luna, and Neville. Focus on all the things you love and make you happy."

"I just don't know how I am going to do this," I confess. "He is so frustrating and scary and undesirable. He treats me like a child and doesn't seem to care if I have an opinion or not. I am freaked out about this wedding and now I have to think about the… _duties_... _with him_." I cringe at the thought of him naked crosses my mind.

Hermione must have been thinking the same thing because she gives an involuntary shudder before trying again. "Yes, I understand how this can seem daunting. I think you should just take it one day at a time. You've only had the news for one whole day and the shock is still wearing off, probably for both of you. As the days go by, things will get easier and then you and Professor Snape can try to work all this out better."

She gives me a hopeful smile. I would never call Hermione a hopeless romantic since she is the most logical person I know, so I know this is her way of trying to be encouraging. She has always been the one to look at both sides of an situation and empathize with both. It is her most frustrating quality, but it is also her most valuable.

"Maybe you are right," I finally relent. "I am so worried about everything, I can't even see straight enough to concentrate on the moment. Three weeks can be a long time if I just take it day by day to think all of this over instead of jumping ahead."

"Exactly," she smiles. "And I will be here the whole time if you need to talk or start to panic. Just like when we were researching in the library; we are in this together."

"Thanks, Hermione," I reply. "Just one thing? I really don't want to hang out with Harry. I still have to see him at practice and in class, but can you just tell him to leave me alone? I am way too mad to be around him any time soon."

"Of course," she agrees. "I have known Harry long enough to know that he has trouble just letting things go. Once he gets an idea in his head, no matter how ridiculous it is, he just lets it fester until it just consumes him."

I think back to all the crazy notions he's had over the years- declaring Malfoy had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets, thinking Sirius was in danger because he saw a vision, believing that Snape was out to kill him all his life- every single instance he was so sure of himself, yet he was wrong every time. She certainly had a point.

"I'll talk to him," she promises as I snap out of my own thoughts. Hermione grins a little and then playfully says, "By the way, I know he's my friend and all, but you need to teach me that boiling hex you cursed him with…"

* * *

I expected the corridors to be buzzing with gossip after Potter's run in with the Weasley girl, but for some reason, everything is quiet. Seems that the whole school heard about the famous couple's break up, but no other information was known. Sure there are the rumours that Potter dumped her for a secret love affair with Granger or gossip that Miss Weasley was possessed by the spirit of a diary again, but not a single whisper pertains to the letter, Potter's mistake, or my new connection to the girl. All in all, just speculation with no solid facts.

But teenage gossip is not a subject I actually care for anyway. Students have spread rumours about me for years, so I am use to it. However, I take comfort in knowing that the longer the news of my sudden engagement to the youngest Weasley stays out of the limelight, the less complex this task becomes.

Being a spy for years and a very accomplished Occlumens has honed my skills in setting boundaries and compartmentalizing emotions and situation. Using the advice from Lucius along with the rules I put in place, I have started to view this arrangement with clarity. Potter was right that there will be no love between me and the girl, so why pretend? We will live our lives and complete our duties just as the law requires and there is nothing more to it.

However, there is still one issue that nags at my mind- marital duties. Vomit threatens me every time I remotely think about having sex with the girl. The problem isn't attraction. No, I may be close to forty, but I am not dead. The girl is beautiful and a younger version of myself would have jumped for joy at the prospect of bedding such a lovely witch.

My problem is the fact that she is still half my age and one of my students. It is too taboo, too unorthodox, too abnormal. Perhaps if she was not a student, it would be better. Or if she was just a random girl that I didn't know who was half my age. However, the two points combined seem to continue to throw me for a loop.

Because of my apprehension, I have forced myself to completely ignore any thought on the subject. It is just easier. My only hope is that after the first time, it will get easier. Perhaps Lucius has some advice, so I floo over.

"Severus," he greets as I step through. "You seemed to have survived the week relatively unscathed. I can't say I am surprised, but I am curious how you managed it."

"I have my ways," I smirk. He pours our usual drinks and hands me the glass. After taking a sip, I add, "The only person who seemed to be at the wrong end of a wand is Potter." Lucius gives an amused look as I tell him all about the boiling hex.

"Sounds like a good start to your marriage," he laughs heartily as I finish. "I am sure you are pleased with a feisty witch who can hold her own, though it seems that she won't be very submissive."

"She'll be submissive enough," I quip thinking about how she didn't argue with a single rule that I laid down.

"Oh, I bet she will," intones Lucius raising his eyebrows in a sly manner. "To be honest, it looks like you'll be the one in the collar."

A shudder runs through as I realize what he is implying. "You are a degenerate," I reprimand. "How many times do I have to tell you? This is not like one of your side trollops. She is someone who I have taught for six years, watched her grow up-"

"Are you still on that spiel?" Lucius interrupts in exasperation. "My good man, you are going to have to get over this frame of mind or you'll find yourself unable to perform your _husbandly duties_."

I sneer viciously. Does he not realize I am perhaps the greatest Occlumens combined Potion's Master in the world? There isn't a chance in hell I will let my mental state of mind embarrass me in such a way. "Speaking from experience?"

If I didn't know any better, I would say that Lucius is lost in thought under his haughty demeanor. He just stares off into the fire, proving that his mind is focused on the emphasized part about about "husbandly duties". However, with such a brilliant opening, I cannot pass this chance to poke fun at him.

"Lucius," I mock maliciously. "Don't feel bad. You had a lot of good years, but I'm sure even the greatest wizards suffer from a loss of magic in their wands? You aren't as young as you use to be."

"Don't be so crass. I have never been better," he spits indignantly. I crack a slight smirk to show I'm only teasing, but he still looks troubled. "While I'm sure you would love to believe I am an impotent moron, that is not the case. My problem is that my taste in women seems to have drastically changed. I have to admit, the youthful grapes yield the bitterest wines."

"So, you no longer fancy women from the same generation as your son? Is it really so awful?" I ask in surprise at his revelation. "You've bragged for years about the long line of women and how they are getting younger and younger with each affair. Am I to believe you have rid yourself of temptation?"

"Yes, I have," he insists. "Even if the law had not been a catalyst in ending my extracurricular activities, I would have done so myself. The sweetest fruit is the unattainable kind."

"So there is still a woman you desire," I muse lightly taking another sip. "Are you upset that your taste is becoming more refined or are you ashamed because this new older woman is wiser and frowns upon such affairs?"

"My taste has always been more refined than yours," he jabs back. "There is no shame. Just desire for a woman who does not want me."

"A woman who doesn't fall for the charms of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy? Who is this woman and when can I meet her?" I can tell my verbal sparring is grating on his patience, but the thought of Lucius changing his way of thinking is intriguing. Granted, he has yet to realize cheating on Narcissa is actually morally wrong, but at least it is a step up from cradle robbing.

"Oh, how funny it is," Lucius retorts in irritation. "Yes, laugh at your friend's broken heart because that is exactly how I treated you twenty years ago." He narrows his eyes, but they are cold and pained. In thirty years, I have not seen such a look upon my friend's face. A sigh escapes me.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel," I apologize sympathetically, knowing that he was always careful to avoid rubbing salt in that wound. Although I don't approve of his infidelity, I can tell he has developed feelings for this mysterious woman, so I try to redirect his focus. "Since when do you take rejection like this? The man I know would fight tooth and nail to get whatever or whoever he wants. Why so hesitant now?"

"This is different," he sighs. "She is so beautiful and smart. Perfect in every way. We did love each other at one time, but things just fell apart. It was my fault really, I was young and arrogant and I didn't realize what I had. For years, I think she was still within reach, but I think I pushed her too far away. I guess after a while she decided to move on as well."

"Sweet Circe," I exclaim. "You love her! This isn't just some notch on your wand." Then the thought hits me like a hippogriff on a rampage as I exclaim, "This woman didn't just reject your advances, she loves someone else!"

"Congratulations, you've figured it out like the good spy you are," he sneers as he raises his glass to toast. "Now if you are quite done with mocking me, I would appreciate it if you either leave or change the subject."

"We can change the subject," I surrender. "But first, I have to ask: Why now? Why is she suddenly on your mind?"

"I have proof of her love for another," he reveals sadly. "I always suspected, but never really knew for sure. It never really bothered me either, but I guess all this talk about the marriage law keeps making me question some of the choices I made. I keep thinking that I should have fought harder to make it work."

"Lucius, listen to yourself. You sound like a lovesick Hufflepuff. I'm sure there are plenty of other, older witches who will fall for the Malfoy charm just as easily." I try to be reassuring, but he just snorts.

"You just don't get it," he declares slamming his glass on the table loudly. "I don't want anyone else. No one else can compare. All I want is to have her, to hold her, to love her openly. I want her, no, I need her. She is a breath of fresh air, that intoxicating scent right after a rainstorm. A woman like that needs a man like myself to to balance out such femininity with my masculinity. We were made for each other. It was meant to be. And she should be with me. I am her husband for Slytherin's sake!"

I stare blankly at him as his chest heaves heavily. Piecing it together, I step towards him and very slowly say, "Lucius correct me if I am wrong, but I could have sworn you just declared your love for your own wife?"

His pained look and clenched jaw affirm what I already know to be true.


	10. Chapter 10

Lucius turns his back towards me and stares into the fireplace pensively. His face is blank and masked, but I can see his mind is exploding with too many thoughts. We may have had our share of problems in the past, but he is still my closest friend.

"So, you've fallen in love with Narcissa," I state unemotionally. "Could be worse." He gives me challenging look, so I joke, "It could have been a Muggleborn."

He lets out a small chuckle, breaking the tension that has settled in his shoulders. Slumping a little, he shakes his head. "Not a chance."

We stand in silence for a moment before I walk away to one of the chairs next to the fire. He follows silently and takes his seat as we continue to sip on our alcohol quietly.

"Come on," he finally says, rubbing his face. "Out with it. I know there are million questions burning on your tongue, so ask away. No point in hiding anything now."

I take a second to choose my words carefully. "There is nothing wrong with loving your own wife," I simply state. He gives me confused look before I add, "Though cheating on her for two decades is a funny way of showing it."

"I told you, we did love each other for a time," he repeats. "But then I thought there was something more out there."

"Something more?"

"We knew we were going to be married for years beforehand," he explains. "You remember our days back at Hogwarts. I wanted to explore the female population before I was tied down for good. Knowing I would be forced into a marriage before I was twenty made me want to see what else was out there."

I think back to our early friendship. It was true, Lucius was very much the lady's man. Nearly every girl was head over heals for him and he dated only the most beautiful of the pureblood witches. It seemed like he had a new lady in his bed every month. Even as young as I was, I could comprehend he had it good.

"As the time drew closer for us to wed, Narcissa and I thought it would be beneficial to properly court and see if we could turn our situation into a real relationship," he went on. "We found ourselves very compatible and very much in love. Things were good for a while."

"What happened?"

He shrugs and shakes his head. "My political career was taking off, my father's demanded that I become more influential in the Ministry, we the struggle to conceive and then Draco's birth, and on top of all that, the Dark Lord just started his rise to power. Narcissa didn't agree with my choices to join the inner circle and thought I was jeopardizing her and Draco's safety. It all just got to be too much. Arguments led to grudges, grudges led to silences, and then eventually we became the one thing we didn't want- two strangers stuck in a miserable marriage."

"And so you took on lovers?" I try to keep my tone neutral, but a note of scorn creeps in causing him to scowl.

"For someone who has never experienced the quarrels of marriage, you sure are judgmental," he remarks. I give him a pointed look, so he sighs and replies. "Yes, shortly after Draco was born, I started seeking companionship elsewhere. It was at the height of the Dark Lord's reigns and he encouraged such pleasure as long as I didn't soil myself with less pure witches. By that point, Narcissa had produced our required heir and wanted nothing to do with me."

"Your wife doesn't strike me as one to allow other women to play in her garden, even if she doesn't tend to it herself," I remind him.

"It wasn't like that," he clarifies. "It wasn't something we talked about, it was just a fact. She confronted me a few months after the first affair began and made it clear that she would not be shamed in our circle or allow our son to know of our problems. As much as I disliked her, I still had my honor and wouldn't dream of dragging my family's name through the mud. So, it became an unspoken understanding- I would continue however I pleased with discretion and allow her the same freedom as we continued to pretend to the rest world."

"If she's also been having affairs for years, why are you suddenly so bothered?"

"I never really knew for sure," he explains. "She would run off to our chateau in France or the property in Ireland, but house elves report never seeing another man. I thought she was just being clever by conducting her affairs in places I couldn't send spies to. I couldn't really blame her, I did the same thing with my paramours. But then last week, I found this."

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a letter. I take the letter delicately and read it over meticulously:

_My Darling,_

_We have been apart for far too long and I am sorry for that. Our youth may be gone, but I know the love is not. I am not sure a love like ours can be completely extinguished, even through trials, tribulations, and time. No matter what happens in our daily life or the mask I put on, my heart is only for you._

_For years, I thought this was just a phase, a trist, a period of exploration. We were so young, so foolish. I thought our hearts would realize the mistake we were making. But life continued on and we sprinted down this path, a path of parallel demise until the only thing left was this distant yearning._

_We will never be those naive lovers again, but I think it is for the best. I do not ever want to be so careless and carefree with my heart again. That is why I continue to offer myself to no one else but you. There is no one else in the world I would rather be with than you._

_But I feel like we are so far apart now, that I wonder if I will ever feel your touch, your embrace, your breath again. The years have taught me to be patient, but there is only so much more I can take. Your love is all I want, so do not deny me a minute longer._

_I write again to plead for your return to me. It has been far too long since we have been together, as friends, as lovers, as companions. Deep in my heart I believe you will come back for good, but my faith wanes a little with each passing day. I can only hope it is sooner rather than later, lest I go mad. So do not delay any longer; come back into my arms!_

_Waiting for you,_

_Narcissa_

I read it over several times before finally looking up a Lucius. His face is grave and defeated. No matter how you look at it, one thing is clear- Narcissa is in love. Not just in love, but desperately, truly, deeply, madly in love.

"You see," he says sadly. "She isn't just involved with someone, she loves him. My wife. My WIFE! Pining after another man."

"Have you found out who he is?" Knowing Lucius, he has probably thrown an obscene amount of money at private investigators and connections to find this man. I hold my breath for his response.

"Not yet," he sneers in disgust. "There is not enough information to go off of in this letter. From what I have gleaned, she has known him for a long time. Perhaps an old friend from her childhood? One who moved out of country but seems to visit fairly often. My guess is he comes back under the guise of visiting family or doing business and that is when she meets up with him." I let out a little sigh of relief, but he doesn't seem to notice. There is no telling what Lucius will do to this man when he does find him, but I hope for Narcissa's sake that Lucius is unsuccessful.

"It looks like he is also married," I point out. Lucius clearly doesn't follow, so I read, "'We continued down this path, a path of parallel demise'. That would suggest that they are both at risk of being caught because they are both married. It sounds like this started out casual and just developed over the years."

"Outrageous!" He shouts throwing his empty glass at the fireplace. I stare back calmly as he rages on. "Love? How can you possibly love if the agreement is purely physical? Equating sex with love is preposterous. Do women not know how to separate their emotions from the equation?"

"Have you never fallen in love with one of your paramours?" I ask seriously. "All those women and you never once felt anything more than just a physical attraction?"

"I am a married man," he states plainly. "Falling in love was never an option. If feelings start coming into play, then lines become blurry and then suddenly you are talking about a messy scandalized divorce splashed on page three of the Daily Prophet. Life is easier when you keep it simple. It is better to end things before it gets out of control."

"You can't choose who you fall in love with," I remind him. "Merlin knows how much easier life would be if that we were given the choice. Are you really going to fault her for falling for a man who gives her the emotional support that you cannot provide? She has yet to fault you for seeking physical comfort over the years."

"That's a lie," he declares. "She may not have said anything, but there is a look she gets. It is almost like she knows when I am lying. If I didn't know any better, I would say she is a greater Legilimens than you because I don't even feel her penetrate my mind."

I smile slightly from behind my glass. The idea of Narcissa being an accomplished Legilimens has crossed my mind before. The fact that she lied to the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale was only confirmation that she was the one who taught Draco his Occlumency skills back in his sixth year. I always assumed Lucius knew about Narcissa's hidden talents, so I never thought it pertinent to bring it up. Now, I internally laugh that he has no idea she has probably been invading his mind without his notice for years.

"I'm sure that isn't what she was doing," I lie coyly. "Maybe the guilt is just written all over your face."

"Guilt would imply I felt that it was wrong," he retorts. "I'm not the one who fell in love with a fuck buddy."

"Fine," I relent holding my hands up in surrender. "So what now? Hunt down down her lover and teach him a lesson? Confine Narcissa to the Manor to never seek out her lover again? Confront her about her wayward affections?"

"No," he sighs sadly. "That would only push her further into his arms. I still want to know who this wizard is that dared to steal my witch. It seems my only option is to keep an eye on her until a more agreeable option presents itself."

"Forgive me, Lucius, but why not forget about him and focus on her?" I suggest lightly. "There was obviously something that drew her to this man that had nothing to do with money, power, or availability. If you want her back, then wouldn't it be wise to prove you are worthy of her love?"

He sits for a moment and thinks over my suggestion. His defeated attitude still remains, but I can see a light come back into those icy grey eyes. Giving a small shrug he agrees. "You mean try to woo her back? It does seem to be an option. Maybe she will see my changed heart and know the love we could have again. I have to make her see why I am the better man. I have to have her."

"Just slow down for a moment and think this through," I warn him. "This is not a quick fix. It will be a long drawn out process. Rushing into this with no planning would be foolish. Too much aggression and she will not respond favorably. And even after careful planning, consideration and execution, you must understand that even then, she may not be ready to forgive you so easily."

"You know how I like a good challenge," he smirks arrogantly. I give him a pointed look, so he retracts slightly. "She has every right to reject me, but I will never know if I don't try, right?"

"Then I wish you luck in your endeavors," I conclude standing up and setting my glass on the table. I pull a pinch of Floo powder as Lucius stands as well.

Anxiously he asks, "Rushing off so soon? You fill my head with dreams of grandeur and then leave me alone to fail?"

"Only you know Narcissa well enough to form a realistic plan," I explain. "If you should require assistance, I will be more than happy to help, but the majority of this task you must complete on your own. Just as I must return to the castle and continue to plan my upcoming nuptials. By the way, I suppose I should ask now if you and Narcissa would agree attend said ceremony? For moral support?"

"For anyone else the answer would be no," he teased. "But to pass on the opportunity to have you owe me a favor would be foolish, so my answer is yes. Hopefully, this will give me a chance to start my plan to win my wife back."

"So glad I can be of service," I retort sarcastically. "Until next time?"

"Indeed," I hear him respond before the green flames send me back to the castle.

* * *

Hermione's advice to take each day in stride was the best thing she could have told me. It is easier than I thought it would be and I find myself calmer with each passing day.

It seems she also held true to her word and talked some sense into Harry. It has been a week since I receive the letter, but he has not sought me out and keeps a safe distance away from me during class and practice. Even Snape seems to be on the same page as I have not had another degrading conversation about rules. In fact, the few times I have see him on the halls or at meals, he doesn't even acknowledge my presence as he sweeps by.

The rest of school has noticed that Harry and I are no longer together, but they seem to have enough courtesy to not talk about it in front of me. The whispers stop as soon as I walk into any room and the stares are rather uncomfortable, but I can handle it. Especially since they have yet to hear about my engagement.

The weekend finally comes around and it is the first Quidditch Match of the season- Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Harry and I had two practices since I hexed him, but we stayed far away from each other on the field. I think Ron might have had something to do with that since he and Harry practiced at one end of the pitch while the other chasers and I were at the other.

Our team gets ready in bright spirits before the match. As I lace my boots, my eye catches Harry watching from afar. It takes all my effort to ignore him completely. My anger has only subsided slightly, so I know if he tried to speak to me, my wand would be ready for a fight. I can hear the crowd starting to cheer as the rest of the team begins to walk to the field.

I glance in the stands and see Hermione and Luna waving and giving encouraging smiles of good luck. For the first time in a week, I feel completely at ease. I am in my element now, and nothing, not even my fight with Harry or my anxiety about the upcoming wedding, can distract me. The outside world no longer matters; it's just me, my broom, and the Quaffle.

Madame Hooch finally blows the whistle and I immediately go for the ball with my other two chasers, Dennis Creevey and Lola Nilmah. We make a great team as we weave in and out of beaters, bludgers, and the opposing team. In the first few minutes, we score three times and my spirit feels like floating. The crowd is feeding my ego.

Hufflepuffs are great competitors in Quidditch. The play tough, but fair so the game is always a good challenge. This year they have stepped up their game and before long we trail by two goals.

Ron is doing a decent job blocking Quaffle as best he can, but it is obvious the Hufflepuff Chasers have some new moves. Dennis and I continue to steal the Quaffle and take shots, but their keeper has improved as well. Each shot on the goal is met with a fierce defense as the game quickly rolls downhill with the Hufflepuff chasers continuing to score.

With each passing minute, my nerves begin to fail and I start hoping for a quick end to this game. I look around to see if Harry has even spotted the Snitch. He is floating aimlessly, watching me. Yelling over my shoulder, I tell him to get his head in the game. I know I am close enough to hear, but he doesn't seem to be listening. Frustrated, I fly up on one of the Beaters.

"Send the next bludger to Harry," I command. "Maybe if something starts flying in his direction, he'll get his head out of his arse and start looking for the damned Snitch." My team mate gives an apprehensive look, but he knows better than to question my judgment.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a dark bludger is sent directly at Harry, narrowly escaping another broken arm. He looks around wildly as I scream at him, "Look for the fucking Snitch, you moron!" He sends me an angry scowl and flies to the other end of the field.

Within a few minutes, he snatches the golden snitch, winning only 40 points ahead of Hufflepuff. The crowd cheers ecstatically as we land, but I am still frustrated with Harry. As we start back to the locker room, I see the Beater apologize to Harry ahead of me. He turns back to me with pure rage in his eyes.

"What the fuck, Gin?" Harry shouts. The entire team stops walking to watch what is about to happen. "Trying to get me knocked off my broom? If you want to be a seeker so bad then you should have challenged me for my spot."

"I don't want your damn position," I snap back. "I only had him do it because you had your head in the clouds instead of in the game. They were nearly a hundred points up before you decided to start looking for the Snitch!"

"I knew where the snitch was the whole time," he argued. "Ernie had no idea where it was, so I was waiting in hopes that we would steal back some of the points. In case you forgot, you lost our house eighty points this week alone. But forgive me for trying to get them back. Maybe if you weren't so focused on my Seeking abilities, you could have scored a few more points for the team!"

My face burns hot under everyone's gaze. It was a clever strategy, but I'm certainly not going to admit it to him. Besides, he was just being arrogant. Before I can come back with a snarky comment or pull my wand, a voice calls my name at a distance.

"Miss Weasley!" Everyone turns to see none other than Professor McGonagall walking calmly towards us. Swearing under my breath, I vanish my wand back in my robes in hopes that she doesn't notice how close I was to hexing him again.

"Miss Weasley," she repeats brightly, not noticing the tension thick in the air. "I'm sorry, but I forgot to let you know earlier that your detention will be held in my office after you have finished changing." I open my mouth to argue, but she gives me a stern look that keeps me silent.

She turns to the rest of the team and begins to congratulate each member with a compliment. They chatter away happily, so I go ahead and leave for the dressing room alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snape standing in the shadows and I know he was watching the entire scene unfold.

Just when I thought things were going to be all right, Harry and Snape are standing by to remind me how wrong I am.

* * *

Damn girl was about to start another fight with Potter!

I had not intended to come to the match, but Minerva insisted firmly that I should attend this match since I will be missing the Hufflepuff Ravenclaw match in a couple of weeks. Secretly, I think she was trying to get me to be morally supportive of my future wife. Utter rubbish!

The match was considerably boring until I noticed Potter spotted the snitch but made no attempt to catch it. He was watching the match intently as though he were sitting in the stands, but was still glanced every once in awhile as if waiting for just the right moment to snatch it.

After a few minutes, I could tell his former girlfriend noticed his odd behavior by the way she began yelling at him from below. When he didn't respond, I literally watched her collude with another player to knock a bludger in his direction!

I had no idea the girl had so much gall!

But her plan worked and Potter decided to end the game right there. I knew it was only a matter of time before the pair would exchange words, so I made it a point to "insist firmly" that Minerva congratulate her winning team. Thank Merlin the woman is smart enough to pick up on my subtle hints. I'm not sure if she saw the girl ready to hex Potter again, but Minerva did manage to diffuse the situation easily enough.

Just when I think I am starting to get a handle on this whole situation, she becomes as unpredictable as a blast ended skrewt.


	11. Chapter 11

"Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall greets me sternly from the desk as I enter her office.

The office has not changed much over the last few years. Professor Dumbledore kept lots of odd and interesting objects on the desk, Snape kept every surface empty as his demeanor is, and now McGonagall keeps a more homey space. It is still quite tidy, with tea set in the corner, a few tartan pillows on the chairs and couch, a chess set by the fire, pictures and statues on the mantle, and her desk full of various papers that look to be awaiting a signature or review.

Swiftly, she transforms the padded chair in front of her desk into a smaller chair with attached table. As she stands up, her hand makes a swift motion to get me to take the seat, so I do without hesitation. Professor grabs a book from the shelf next to her desk and walks to my side with it in her hand.

"Since you were in violation of school rules pertaining to unauthorized use of magic in corridors, use of unauthorized magic against a fellow student, and the use of inappropriate language, you will be writing an essay on the subject. You will explain the meaning of each rule in full detail, how you specifically interpreted that rule, why you think each rule was implemented in the first place, and why this rule is important not only to the school but how it should be observed in everyday life as well."

She sets the worn book in front of me and a slight groan escapes me as I read the cover. _Hogwarts: A History (Extended Version)_. "You may use this as a reference. When you complete your essay, I will read it over," she adds setting a roll of parchment and quill on top of the book.

For the record, I hate writing essays. Growing up, my mother would always punish us with manual cleaning jobs. Most of them were tedious, but they weren't terribly difficult. I learned a lot of tricks and shortcuts to get the work done faster. But essays are never quick, even if you know what you are going to write.

Dipping my quill in the inkwell, I start with the first of my crimes- using magic outside of class. It is simple to explain that the rule means spells that are not used in class or pertain to the furthering of academia, how the founders thought it might be dangerous for new witches and wizards to use it unsupervised, and how it could be dangerous to use randomly since Muggles might spot magic or how a spell can get out of hand quickly if the caster is not careful.

The next offense of using magic against another student is also quite obvious. I flip through the book and reference a quote I had heard from Hermione about how the Helga Hufflepuff believed that using magic against one another was no better than using magic against Muggles. According to her, the gift of magic was to be valued as an art, not as a means of gaining power or creating fear. So far, my essay is coming along nicely.

Suddenly, my essay begins to runs into problems. The founder's define vulgar and lewd language to be "any word that did not fit decorum of the time" to which the book cited words like "bloomers", "bugger", "thigh", and "bloody" as examples. In fact, the book referenced how in the seventeenth century, quoting lines from Shakespeare's plays was grounds for expulsion.

Flipping through the book, I skim through page after page to find a more recent century that might pertain to this rule. Frustrated, I slam the book shut and tap my quill on the desk in an effort to come up with something to write on the subject.

"Something I might assist with?" Professor McGonagall asks looking up from her own writing. I just shrug. She stands and moves from behind the desk. "Let me see what you have so far."

I hand her the essay and she reads quickly. Her head nods slightly as her eyes moved down the page and every so often a smirk plays at her lips. She reaches the end and looks up at me, waiting for my question.

"Apparently, 'vulgar and lewd' language is basically any word that society thinks is inappropriate at the time. Certain words that I thought would be considered off limits aren't even mentioned and some of the words are kind of ridiculous," I explain defeated. As much as I want to add in my opinion that I think the rule is stupid anyway, I don't.

"Hogwarts has always been a school to follow social standards of the times," she begins. "At one time, education stopped for many young women as they were married off. For several years, muggleborn students were not sent letters to Hogwarts because they were not deemed worthy of magical education. But not all of the social standards were terrible. Most magical schools around the world will not allow Squibs to attend, even though they have just as much magical blood as you or I, but Hogwarts does not see the difference. Uniforms provide continuity and unity between students, so we require them here."

"What does that have to do with the rule?" I huff in irritation. "Besides, I didn't say anything untruthful, so why should it matter how I said it?"

"Because the words are just as dangerous as magic. Do you call Miss Granger a Mudblood or a Muggleborn?"

"Muggleborn," I reply automatically. "The other word is derogatory and offensive. And it isn't true. Her blood doesn't have mud in it, nor is it dirty."

"So would it be better to call her 'Impureblood' or 'Unclean'?"

"No," I exclaim incredulously. "There is nothing wrong with her blood. Just because she isn't a Pureblood doesn't mean her blood is impure!"

"But the opposite of Pure is Impure or Unclean," she explains. "By your own admission, I am speaking the truth, so my words shouldn't matter, right?" She gives me a challenging look, but I don't know how to argue back. "You might have spoke the truth when you pointed out that Professor Snape was once a Death Eater, but that doesn't make it right. Nor was your vivid description of his personality or your marital duties appropriate either."

My face burns crimson as I remember my exact words to Harry. "I was angry," I justify. "The words just came out."

"But you can't take those words back now, can you?" She gently reminds me. "Like magic, once you release the words, the power is released into the world. This rule is still in place not to inhibit the freedom of speech or expression, but to remind everyone that once harsh words are spoken, you must live with the repercussions of such words."

She lets her speech sink in for a moment while I think. Professor McGonagall is a lot like Dumbledore was with his cryptic messages and hidden meanings. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess she is trying to get at something much bigger than the fact that I called Snape an arse or Harry a son of a bitch. But after writing the essay, I can't quite put my finger on what it is, so I just nod tiredly.

"Your essay is acceptable," she says at last, turning back to her desk. "You may return to your dormitory and I advise you to think before you speak from now on." I stand up and start for the door.

"And Miss Weasley," she calls out as I reach for the knob. I turn back as she sits down. "I understand the events of this last week are far more stressful than anyone else at this school has had to deal with. Marrying Severus Snape is no easy task, but I have complete faith in your ability to cope. That said, if you ever need anything, my door is always open."

"Thank you, Professor," I nod. As I start to push the door open, I turn back one last time. "I am sorry for the way I acted on Monday and I will try not to let my anger get the best of me."

She laughs heartily before answering. "Apology accepted. Anger is a natural emotion, just learn to control it before it destroys."

I walk back to my room silently, thinking about what Professor McGonagall said. She believes I can handle him. It is comforting to know that even McGonagall understands what a terrible problem this match is going to be. I suppose the thing that really bothers me is that Snape has made no effort to conceal the fact that I am the last person he wants to marry, but I still don't know why.

Is it because I am a Weasley? No, Snape doesn't care about blood traitors. I mean, how prejudice could he be when he is a half-blood himself? And sure, my brothers rubbed him the wrong way, but surely he has noticed that I am nothing like them.

Is it because we don't love each other? He knew from the moment he let his name end up in the lottery that he would be marrying someone he didn't love, much less know. If anything, he should be grateful that I am not a stranger or some crazed lunatic.

Is it because I am so much younger? Possibly. But since witches and wizards live far longer than muggles, age differences are not all that uncommon, especially when the wizard is older. In fact, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were both nearly was thirty years older their wives, but no one seemed to have a problem with either matchup.

The more I think about it, the more I start to believe that it has something to do with Harry. But if they are on civil terms, it seems like he would be more saddened by the fact that Harry lost his chance with me. If they haven't mended the bridge between them, then would it not be a triumph to take something that was Harry's? Neither scenario makes complete sense, but I know there is a connection between the three of us that is making Snape so hard to deal with.

As I enter the dark room with Hermione fast asleep, I quietly change into my pyjamas and think about McGonagall's cryptic message about words being like magic. Is she trying to suggest that Snape overhearing my angry rant will only continue to fuel his disdain for our situation? Will he continue his resentment for the next two decades simply because I lost my temper?

That thought makes my stomach drops as I sink into bed heavily.

A couple of weeks ago, I was afraid marrying Harry would tear us apart. Now, I am afraid marrying Snape will tear me apart.

McGonagall may be confident everything will be alright, but now it is obvious that Snape and I both have our doubts.

* * *

The weeks pass slowly, but calmly. After a few days, I discovered that I did not have the only undesirable match from the Ministry. Students are constantly gossiping during class and in the hallways about who was paired with who. Somehow, word about me and the girl has finally gotten out and the students are abuzz until I walk by and a fearful silence ensues.

I was not in the staff meeting when Minerva finally announced my engagement to the Weasley girl, but I can only imagine the collected reaction was similar to mine- shock, disgust, outrage. Encounters with my fellow teachers have become so awkward, I avoid all of them as much as possible. I use to only spend lunch and a couple dinners a week in my own quarters, but now I hardly leave.

Argus looked as if he wanted to grill all the details out of me, but the man is smart enough to know better. Bill Weasley doesn't usually come into the castle, but we happened to run into each other day. He was sincere, but it was obvious that he was not thrilled about the match either. I expected some harsh words, but strangely enough, he simply stated that he was happy his sister didn't end up married to a psychopath.

Since the neither of us are very thrilled about the prospect of a wedding, there isn't much else to plan. Minerva has insisted there be more than just the Weasleys and Malfoys, so she made a point to have the other heads attend as well as Granger. According to Minerva, the girl will need a friend for "moral support". However, there are no rings, no dress robes, and no superfluous decorations, so I can spend all my spare time looking further into this law.

Since the full explanation of the law came in, I have done nothing but analyze. It looks to be based on previous laws over the centuries, except Umbridge has added in so many extra strictures that it looks like all loopholes have been covered. But I know she isn't as smart as she thinks, so somewhere in here is the answer.

Although Lucius has refused to become entrenched in this battle for an appeal, he has been keeping an ear to the ground for any news on the progress of such motions being made. Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Xenophilius Lovegood, and Minerva have banded together in an effort to get the law repealed, but no proposition has made it to the Wizengamot for review yet.

Minerva has already sent in an amendment to allow student to be exempt from the procreation portion of the law until their education is finished. Kingsley has requested that anyone who is under ministry employment be immediately exempt due to the restabilization of the entire hierarchy. Xenophilius is arguing for a petition for homosexual individuals to be put in a separate lottery which will pair same sex female couples together and partner them with same sex male couple to complete an insemination process.

All motions have been stalled in the inquisition committee for the moment. I am desperate for the law to be repealed completely, but any extra amendment that gives me an opportunity to forego the marital duties would be acceptable. However, I have yet to find a solution that will completely negate the law.

As the wedding day approaches, sleep becomes less and less attainable. The dreams of my mysterious woman have turned into nightmares as the face now morphs into the youngest Weasley. Every time the dreams start with the walks or physical contact, my mind is tricked into believing it will be different. But it never is. Waking in a cold sweat, my heart races as the images of Ginny Weasley enjoying carnal pleasures dissipate from my mind. I feel so dirty, so evil every time.

A book I read on Occlumency suggested meditation to help with strengthening the mental walls of the mind. In the past, I was never unbalanced enough to feel the need to try, but now I can see my sanity slipping away. During my free moments, I reinforce the emotional boundaries and shut all my weak emotions into the box.

Twenty years I have been an ambiguous mask of deception, but one girl is about to destroy it all.


	12. Chapter 12

It is the Sunday before my wedding, and I wake with the usual premenstrual pain in my lower abdomen. There's no doubt in my mind that my period will start in the next couple of hours, so I roll out of bed and grab the necessities before heading to the bathroom.

At first, the thought of my monthly cycle sends me into a panic. What if it lasts until Saturday? I shake my head thinking, _It never lasts for seven days_. Thank Merlin. The charm cast on the wedding day to ensure consummation would allow for us to postpone until the day after my cycle stops, but that doesn't mean that I want to explain to Snape why we would have to wait.

Then, my stomach drops as I think about the fertile days that will come up the week after and a thousand questions begin popping in my head. How is this going to work? Is Snape going to make us do it the following Saturday again, or will he choose another day? Will he even consider the possibility of trying to outsmart the Ministry like this? How am I supposed to bring this up?

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself. There is no reason to panic until I have all the information. One day at a time is what Hermione would say. She would also tell me that I need to have all the facts first before I start down a path of trying to decide how to confront my future husband/teacher about my fertility.

I quickly dress, brush my teeth, and wash my face before returning back to my room to look for a calendar. With the notes I have from Hermione and the calendar in hand, I sit at my desk and start to calculate the days. My cycle should end the day before the wedding and leave me with six days of fertility starting from the day after the wedding to the following Friday.

A sigh of relief escapes me as I count three weeks of safety so long as we do the duties on a Saturday. There is the risk of Saturday not being the chosen day, but I think that is a small possibility. Surely, he won't want to have something like that distracting him when he has class the next day, so the only other day that seems likely would be Friday, my most fertile day. My only hope is that I can fake an illness if he tries to make me do it on a Friday. After that, I should be less fertile and waiting for my next cycle to show up.

So that leaves me with three weeks. Three weeks of a minimal chance for pregnancy, but also three weeks to get the courage up to talk to him about this plan. Technically, it isn't illegal, but I know the Ministry won't like it. Snape may not be one to blatantly break the law, but he isn't exactly a saint. Besides, I have a feeling that he would rather skirt the law a little bit then bring an unwanted child into the world. He doesn't exactly strike me as a man desperate to become a father.

Breaking my law isn't my biggest fear though. The thought of talking about fertility, my cycle, or sex with Snape is completely mortifying. I know it is biology that has gone on for thousands of years, but he isn't he most welcoming person when it comes to private or personal conversations.

Back in my fourth year, one of the Hufflepuff girls in our Potion's class asked to use the bathroom during class. Professor Snape asked why and she was nearly in tears when she said it was an emergency. He was furious at her disruption of class and refused to let her leave.

Halfway through the lesson, Luna noticed the poor girl had a trail of blood dripping down her leg. Horrified, she sprinted out of the class without permission, leaving her potion bubbling and her books behind. Snape was furious and demanded Luna and I clean up her mess and take her books.

The following lesson, he didn't ask the girl why she left, but gave her detention for a week straight for disrespecting a teacher. When she argued that it was an emergency, he simply sneered in a low voice, "An emergency is defined as an unexpected, sometimes dangerous situation requiring immediate attention. Something that occurs like clockwork every few weeks is neither unexpected nor dangerous."

None of us knew how he found out what happened, but the poor girl flushed red and didn't say another word in class for the rest of the month. Thankfully, everyone in class was nice enough to never mention it again and save the girl from embarrassment. I'm pretty sure she has never looked Snape in the eye since. I certainly wouldn't.

I suppose the only positive thing I can reflect upon is that I know for sure that he understands the basics of a monthly cycle. However, I'm still not sure that I want to have a long drawn out conversation with him about mine. Just because he will be my husband doesn't mean we won't have personal boundaries.

Now, I am very thankful for the three weeks. It will take me a long time to build up my courage, but I think I can do it by then. If all else fails, I suppose I could just make up some kind of excuse to trick him into choosing a safe day.

Putting away the calendar, I pull out my brush and run it through my hair. I gave in to Hermione and let her even out the cuts I made, but the shortness is what bothers me most. My red hair has always been my identifier and it always made me a little proud how other girls would look at it enviously. It is easier to manage, but I feel like I have lost a part of myself. To keep from grieving over it too much, I make it a point to only spend a minimal amount of time on it in the mornings.

Hermione bursts into the room and calls out brightly, "Good Morning!" Her hair is still wet from her shower as she drops her night clothes on her bed and begins to run the towel over her wet locks.

I nod as she practically dances into the room gleefully. Hermione is not a particularly overly happy type of person, but I can see there is something different about her today. She is practically floating.

"What?" She asks, suddenly aware that I am staring.

"You are acting strange," I point out.

"I'm just in a good mood." She tries to sound cavalier, but I can see right through it. Realizing her mood is obvious, she nervously laughs. "Can't a girl just have a good day?"

"It's nine in the morning," I point out. "The day has barely started. What is really going on?"

"Nothing," she denies.

"Liar. Tell me."

"Ginny, it's nothing," she deflects. I give her a hard looks as she puts on an innocent look. We have only been friends for a few years, but I can read her like the books she totes around. It hits me.

"It's the wedding," I state curtly. She pales, but remains silent so I continue. "You don't have to hide it. You are happy about getting married and all that."

Her face darkens and her shoulders sag slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so insensitive or try to rub it in."

"Don't be," I shake my head. "Just because my life is in shambles, doesn't mean you shouldn't be happy. I mean, you get to marry the love of your life! You should be happy. Besides, Harry and I would have never worked out anyway."

"That's not true-"

"Yes, think about it," I cut her off. "Harry was orphaned as an infant and then grew up with the most horrible family members ever. Then he finally gets a godfather, a true family member that he connects with, only to have him die as well. Deep down, I'm sure all Harry wants is a family to call his own. Sure he has mine, but we all know it's not the same. Meanwhile, I have grown up surrounded by the largest, closest family possible. After Hogwarts, I was really looking forward to having some peace and quiet, being independent, not having people worrying about me and just being allowed to take care of myself and Harry. Harry probably wants several kids, but I don't really want any. Maybe one, but it would have just been a fight waiting to happen between us."

"Things could have changed," she insists. "He could have realized you and he were all he really wanted. Or he might have thought one kid was plenty. Or after a while, you could have realized one kid wasn't enough."

"No, not with the law in place," I argue. "If it was in our own time and at our own pace, I'm sure we could have compromised or made it work, but this was all too fast. We would have just ended up miserable in the end. But it's not a big deal. I'm sure most of the women in the world won't mind marrying the hero of the wizarding world or even having five or six kids with him."

Hermione bites her lip the way she does when she is attempting to come up with a valid argument. Deciding to put an end to the discussion, I change the subject hastily.

"By the way, thanks for not bringing up Harry's new fiance. Getting over him is hard enough without thinking about the girl he is going to marry." I turn to give her a reassuring smile, but Hermione pales slightly. Her worried look causes me to think I offended her. "I'm sure she is a nice girl and I don't care if you like her, just as long as you stay my best friend," I tease with a grin.

She nods her head nervously and looks away.

My smile fades as I realize something is wrong. "Hermione," I press. "She's a nice girl, right? Or have you just not met her yet?"

Hermione continues to stare mutely with wide eyes. The internal battle she is waging in her head is written all over her face. I can sense the bad news in her eyes, so I ask, "What is it? Who is she?" My eyes plead for an answer and I can tell she is reluctant to tell me. Panic fills me up faster and stronger than my anxiety from a few minutes before.

"Ginny, he didn't receive a letter," she starts slowly.

"I know, he told me he didn't receive a letter that day," I interject. "I'm sure that it was a mistake or it just got lost. But he got one later, right? Telling him who was selected for him?"

"He didn't get one at all," Hermione says quietly. She glances up and I am sure that I am the one turning pale now, so she starts talking very fast.

"When he realized you received a letter and he didn't, he thought the same thing. The day after he got out of the hospital wing, he skipped class and went to the Ministry to try to sort everything out. Kingsley told him that the contract between you and Professor Snape is an official record now can't be changed, but he was surprised to hear that Harry didn't get a letter and promised to look into it. A few days later, Kingsley still didn't know for sure what happened, but he had a theory that it had something to do with Harry's magical signature being altered when the Horcrux inside him was destroyed."

"How so?"

"Harry lost the ability to speak Parseltongue when the Horcrux inside him was destroyed and he thought he 'died' out in the woods. Kingsley thinks that the magical registry was altered when this happened. Since his magic was tied into Voldemort's, then somehow this event confused the registry and caused Harry's name to never be entered into the lottery with all the other eligible singles. Since no one has ever been brought back from the dead, no one really thought about a person's magical signature being altered as a side effect."

"So what happens to him now?" I nearly shriek. "He doesn't get partnered with anyone? I have to live the next twenty years of my life as Mrs. Severus Snape while he gets to roam free and happy?"

"The lottery for this year has already been decided," Hermione concludes. "Kingsley advised Harry to use this time to find someone to marry or he will be manually added into the next lottery in exactly one year from now. The law has the lottery drawing every year until the magical community increases to the prewar population numbers."

"Unbelievable," I fume. "His name gets drawn from the Goblet of Fire without him even submitting it, but this time, when the stakes aren't death, the magical registry completely forgets about him."

"That was different and you know it. He had nothing to do with either the Goblet of Fire or the lottery," she chides. "Furthermore, he isn't being exempt from the law, he was just overlooked for a short time. Kingsley made it clear that his fate will be the same as the rest of us."

"No, it won't," I snap back. "It's not like he has to marry Snape." Hermione's shoulders sag and she shakes her head.

"I'm not defending him," she replies. "What he did was awful. He knows how angry Ron and I are about the whole situation, but there isn't anything he can do now. To make up for his mistake, he decided he is not going to try to find someone to marry. He is going to take his chances with the lottery next year as a sort of self punishment. Harry feels absolutely terrible."

"Good," I huff with finality. She starts to say something, but thinks better of it so we sit in tense silence.

Then I remember how this whole conversation got started. I take Hermione's hand and say, "You know before we got off topic, I was trying to make a point. You should celebrate your wedding as a joyous isn't about me or Harry or this messed up law. This is about you and my brother and the long happily married life that you will get to share together." She gives me a grateful smile and a hug as I finish. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. In fact, Professor McGonagall suggested that you be at the ceremony."

"Of course I will be there," she promises. "Marriage or not, you are still my best friend. And it would only be fair for me to be there since I need you at mine."

This makes me laugh. "Scared of becoming trapped in a sea of Weasley's?" She smiles genuinely at my joke.

"Very funny," she laughs back. "A girl needs her best friend on her wedding day to share the girliness."

"Lovely," I roll my eyes. She knows how much I do not enjoy dresses or frilly things. "When is the wedding anyway?"

"Ron and I decided on next Saturday," she confirms. "I hope you don't mind. We thought that having a wedding a week after yours might help lighten the mood for your parents."

I nod in agreement. "Yes, that would be good. Maybe with everyone so happy at yours, people will forget mine," I shrug miserably. Her smile drops as she searches for some kind of hopeful words. When none come, I simply shake my head and say, "Let's just focus on your wedding. Tell me what still needs to be done."

Her face brightens as she dives into telling all about the dress robes she selected, the rings she and my brother have obtained, and how her mother has been working night and day to make arrangements. I listen intently with a smile on my face.

As happy as I am for her, I am still a little jealous.

* * *

"Severus," Minerva greets as she steps into my empty classroom. I look up at the clock and see my next class will be starting in a half an hour. She never visits my class, so I can't help but be curious about this strange occurrence.

"Headmistress," I return cordially. The potions on my desk are lined up neatly as I inspect color and composition. She sits across and picks up a vial that is a particularly nasty shade of green in comparison to the others lined up.

"Vitamix potion?" She questions. I nod curtly as she swirls the contents. "If I didn't know for sure that Mister Longbottom dropped potions, I would suspect this was a creation of his."

"If Harold Eruliaf was secretly related to Longbottom, I would believe that failing potions is a genetic trait running through the family." Minerva chuckles slightly. "But I know you did not come here to help me grade second year potions, so to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She sets the bottle back exactly in line where she found it and transfigures a chair in front of my desk. Sinking lightly on the cushion, she leans back casually and replies, "No need to worry, this is only a social call."

"Forgive me, Headmistress, but as you can see I am quite busy," I motion to the potions.

"This won't take long," she assures with a smile. "I was simply dropping by to see how you are doing."

"Busy, obviously." It doesn't take a genius to see where this is going.

"Yes, but I was speaking about your wedding," she insists. "It is tomorrow."

"I am aware," I curtly respond. It is the only thing I have thought about for the last four days, but that doesn't mean I want to talk about it.

"And afterwards?" Caught off guard, I look up quickly and frown. She raises her eyebrows. "How are you feeling about after the wedding?"

"It will be a long twenty years after."

"Okay, I tried to be polite, but since you insist on being difficult," she says throwing her hands up in the air and leaning forward. "How are you feeling about consummating the marriage?" Her boldness is unwanted and astounding.

"That is really none of your business," I growl back.

"I know it's not," she agrees. "However, as a friend, I just want to remind you to be gentle."

"Stop right there, Minerva," I declare throwing my hands up to cut her off. "This may come as a surprise, but I am a grown man. I refuse to receive a talk about the birds and the bees, especially from you. I am quite aware of what is expected of us and can assure you that I have planned for every scenario possible."

"That is what I am concerned about," she replies carefully. "Miss Weasley is a person, not a recipe in a potion book with instructions and directions. There is no doubt she will be stressed and anxious about what is to follow, but I urge you to refrain from your usual coldness and try to be understanding."

"Slipping her a sleeping potion is looking more and more appealing," I mumble just loud enough for her to hear. She does not find it amusing.

"This is isn't a joke, Severus," she bites back harshly. "This is a young girl's life we are talking about. Are you really so heartless to not even consider how she might be feeling?"

I slam my fists on my desk and stand up so quickly, several of the vials tip over. "No, Minerva, it is quite impossible to forget how young she is and how scared she will be. Especially when I am constantly being reminded by everyone in this building. This is a private matter between me and the girl. I am asking you politely to stop meddling in my personal affairs."

Minerva gives me a hard look, but doesn't look at all taken aback by my reaction. As I tower over her across the desk, she sits straight and doesn't break eye contact. Without any sign of hesitation or reluctance, she slowly stands and draws herself up to her full height.

"As you wish," she agrees with a slight nod. Her face is unreadable as she vanishes the chair and starts to leave. She grabs the handle and turns over her shoulder briefly. "I will let you handle this as you see fit, but just know this- one wrong move will set you down a very difficult path that will be nearly impossible for your marriage to recover from." She exits without waiting for a response.

In a fit of rage, my hands sweep across the desk, sending papers flying and bottles shattering to the floor. I pinch the bridge of my nose as a headache starts to form right behind my eyes. With a flick of my wand, I vanish the mess and make a hasty retreat to my office.

If I didn't have the next class to tend to, a glass of firewhisky would be in order.


	13. Chapter 13

This wedding is the single most miserable affair I have ever attended. Molly and Arthur look like they are attending their daughter's funeral instead of her binding ceremony. Some of her brothers have shown up as well. They continue to drill me with stares of seething rage or indescribable disgust. My guess is they all would rather have me exiled than marry into their family.

Minerva performs the entire ceremony in a little under fifteen minutes. It wasn't a surprise when she cast the required Procreation Charm to ensure the duties are fulfilled once a week, but I could hear the awkward shifting of the crowd holding their breath. It didn't take a Legilimens to know every single person in the room was thinking about the girl and I having intercourse.

Lucius finds me after the ceremony with Narcissa in tow, looking bored and irritated at being dragged along. From the look on his face, I can tell he has not made in progress in winning his wife back. Maybe when I see him at the dinner next week, he'll have taken a step in the right direction.

Internally, I struggle between retreating to my quarters for my last few minutes of solace or waiting to escort my new bride. As much as I want to leave the crimson sea of disdain, I know that I need to stay. If she is stupid, she'll try to run away and I can't let that happen. I will not be exiled because she can't handle this.

There isn't a reception after the wedding, just family members hugging the girl. I can feel their glares toward the Malfoys and I as the rest of the staff stands between us keeping watch. My new wife is in the center of her family looking like her pet just died with Granger next to her protectively. The girl absolutely refused to look at me during the entire ceremony.

I suppose I can't be too surprised at her insolence- I knew I was marrying a child.

* * *

This has been the worst day of my life. I woke up with knots in my stomach and a lump in my throat. The hours crept by unnaturally slow. All I wanted was to get this over with.

Then came the wedding. Never have I felt more exposed in all my life. I wore my school robes since I didn't even have any dress robes. Snape and I stood at the front of the room while my family, a few teachers, and the Malfoys watched as Professor McGonagall performed the ceremony. It probably wouldn't have been so humiliating if she hadn't cast a Procreation Charm. From the moment it is cast, the timer starts for us to consummate our marriage and everyone in the room knew it.

My brothers looked grim as they hugged me goodbye afterwards. They each told me to owl them if I needed or wanted anything. As usual, mom and dad stood by, but didn't say much. Thank Merlin I had Hermione there to support me. Every time I thought I was going to faint, she'd catch my eye and give me reassuring look.

And then there was Snape. He stood in the corner with his friend Lucius. I can't believe he had the nerve to invite that man to my wedding. As if today wasn't miserable enough! I'm sure he would have been furious if I had invited Harry, so why on earth would he think inviting Lucius was acceptable?

Next to Lucius was Narcissa looking bored and not too thrilled to be present. From across the room I can smell her expensive, rose scented perfume wafting about the room. On a normal day, I might have enjoyed the fragrance, but today it makes me feel light headed and faint.

The last hug I received was from my mother. She has made little progress since the summer, but I was glad when she whispered in my ear as she held me.

"Be brave. I know you are. You can do this. You will be okay."

It was short and sweet, but it brought tears to my eyes as I felt her warmth return for that split second. By the time she released me, her vacant expression was back in place and her sad eyes stared blankly through me. Those few words were everything.

* * *

I am barely keeping it together now that it is time to do our required consummation.

We walked from the third floor to the dungeons in complete silence, like I was leading the way to her execution. Since it had to be done anyway, I recast the wards on my chambers to recognize her magical signature as we entered, but that was mostly to stall for time. She started down the hall to her room, so I told her to be waiting in my bedroom in ten minutes. Thankfully, she didn't argue.

I go through my room to my bathroom and shut the door. Looking on the counter, the three potions I pulled earlier are waiting in a neat little row- One for male arousal, one for quick release, and last is a sperm inhibitor.

The prophet ran articles every day covering various questions of the law, so I read every article to help formulate my plan. There are no restrictions on how long the intercourse must last, but it must finish with male climax. No contraception allowed, no aborting fetuses, only vaginal intercourse would suffice, and no using a method of withdrawing before climax. It was very scientific.

I do admit, the first two potions were brewed solely for my own selfish reasons; to get it over quick and to not embarrass myself by failing to rise to the occasion. I cannot risk her loose tongue squealing to her little friends that I humiliated myself in the bedroom. No, that would be unacceptable.

The last potion on the counter was a last minute decision. Many times over the last few weeks, one question bugged me above all the rest- Should I impregnate her on our wedding night so that we never have to procreate again?

Initially, the idea seemed like a fantastic plan. One time and then our marriage would remain sexless for twenty years. I could use the strongest sperm enhancer to ensure insemination and be done with this whole thing for good.

However, I began to realize that a loveless marriage might be fine for the two of us, but I couldn't bring a child into the mix under those circumstances. I remember what it is like to be the child in a loveless marriage and I cannot let history repeat itself. My conscience won't allow such a travesty.

Thankfully with all my experience as a Potion's Master, I can guarantee my sperm inhibitor works perfectly and is completely undetectable. It is a great risk, but I can't leave something like this to chance. Although this might also be my last attempt at redemption, I cannot risk telling her about it. It will have to be a secret I take to the grave.

Originally, I thought giving myself ten minutes would give me enough time to drink my potions and recalm my mind, but panic is taking over my mind. The mind exercise from before the wedding helped a little bit, but now I wish I had grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey before I locked myself in.

Ten minutes of deep breathing later, I toast to my reflection and down the three vials rapidly. I can feel my erection immediately form and strain against my pants. Thank Merlin I had enough sense to keep my robes on.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I see the her sitting on the edge of the bed looking at her hands in her lap. Thankfully, her school robes have been removed and replaced by a tank top and pyjama shorts. Her hair was down for the wedding, but is now braided in a single plait over her left shoulder. For a split second, my mind flashes to a memory of Lily looking almost the exact same way. I push that memory away without a second thought. It will only make things worse if I focus on it.

She looks up as I step through the threshold and I can see fear in her eyes. Her face is hard as she tries to keep it blank, but I can see her shoulders shuddering slightly. I am suddenly grateful I had the foresight to think of these potions or we would end up being here all night long. Tears have never been a turn on for me.

I wait to see if she is going to say anything, but she looks more likely to cry than to have a conversation about what we are about to do. I expected her reluctance, so I made a contingency plan on how to handle each reaction she might throw at me. I have a calming draught next to the bed if she panics, a spell to stun her if she tries to run, and a few other hexes if she becomes unruly.

"We will be proceeding momentarily, but I am going to lay out a few ground rules," I say calmly commanding her attention. "This is an act required by the law so I do not see any need for unnecessary or frivolous touching to accompany this already awkward time. When I turn out the lights, you will remove only the necessary clothing on your lower half while I wait. You will lay on your back in a suitable position and then we will start. Once we begin, there will be no talking until the act is complete. Is there anything unclear about my instructions?" I say this as unemotional as I can so my anxiety remains hidden.

She simply nods but has now gone pale. It's like looking at a scared puppy and not at all comforting. Rolling my eyes, I turn around and shut the lights off.

As darkness ensues, I can hear the rustling of clothing and the sheets as she scrambles to complete my instructions, so I take the opportunity to take a few more deep breaths.

I have not been this nervous since my very first sexual experience and that was only because I was so afraid my inexperience would embarrass me. But now, twenty years later, that feeling is more because I feel so deeply disgusted at the thought that I am about to fuck a student. I am also reminded that the whole world knows what we are about to do.

The room goes silent, so I push my thoughts into my mental box and begin to concentrate on the present. As I blindly start to make my way towards the bed, I pull off my robes and place them on a nearby chair.

It takes no time at all to unfasten my belt and trousers. My erection has only been present for a few minutes, but the pressure in my pants is almost painful. The darkness shields my actions, but I know from her gasp she can hear the zipper and buckle release as I pull them just down only just slightly. The fabric brushing against my cock almost causes me to groan in pleasure, but I resist with all my willpower.

Even in the dark, I can make out where her body is on my bed. Without having to touch her, I bring myself up to the foot of the bed and crawl over her. I can feel she is tense because when the bed moves, she stiffens and her arms are pinned to her side like she has been petrified.

Grabbing my throbbing member, I guide myself between her legs. Instinctively, I glance back at her to make sure she is ready, but I'm pretty sure her eyes are closed and her head is turned away from me. With nothing more to wait for, I push myself into her in one smooth motion.

It is like putting a shoe on that is two sizes too small. I fit, but it is almost painful as her walls catch my skin roughly. There is no moisture inside her, but I had expected this. I curse myself for not having the fortitude to force her apply some lubrication beforehand. The dryness is almost chaffing.

She is not crying or trying to stop me, so I take a couple more quick thrusts to get in a more comfortable position. I can feel her center is hot with the few thrusts and there is a bit of moisture that builds. Probably just her body's natural response to being filled. She is clenching her muscles to prevent me from penetrating, but it doesn't help. In fact, her tightness only encourages my body's natural response to begin thrusting at a steady pace.

This may be something I have been dreading, but I am still a man and my arousal has a mind of its own. I place my hands near her shoulders to lock my elbows to begin a more controlled thrusting motion, trying to make sure the only thing rubbing together is our private parts.

I get a good rhythm going and begin to focus on building my release. Neither of us want to be doing this, so time is of the essence. The quicker this is over, the quicker she can leave.

There is no sound coming from the girl, so I try to keep my breathing quiet as well. She is completely frozen like a dead fish. This is, without a doubt, the least pleasurable intercourse I have ever had.

As I thrust, I can feel her inner muscles continuing to fight me. It only encourages my manhood to build. I am not working my body into any heavy breathing from the movements, but my anxiety is forcing my brow to sweat profusely. It is several minutes before I feel the urge to finish sweep over me and I don't hold back in the slightest.

I swear it is the worst release of my life. The physical pressure is gone, but I don't feel sated like in all my previous sexual encounters. There is no relief or satisfaction behind my climax. I pause momentarily as I feel my warm fluids shoot in bursts and begin to leak out. I guess that is the punishment for the crime I have just committed. In all honesty, I never knew that sex could be so miserable. Even masturbating to relieve a physical need feels better than this.

It only takes a second for me to catch my shallow breath and pull out of her in one swift move. It is then that I hear the sob come from her. She tries to stifle it by holding her hand over her mouth, but she knows I heard it.

In a panic, I shove my limp penis roughly back into my pants and practically run into the bathroom. I reach outside the bathroom and flick the lights on before quickly shutting the bathroom door and locking it. It is only seconds before the shower is running loudly.

Looking in the mirror, I can see my face is flushed from either the activity or my stress, but I can't tell which. I realize I am shaking uncontrollably as my emotion break out of the cage begin to sweep over me. There is nothing like remorse, disgust and nausea hitting you all at the same time.

Several deep breaths with my eyes closed and my mind focused on nothing is all I need. It takes a minute or two, but my body finally calms enough to think. I was doing so well until I heard that pitiful little cry.

Stepping into the shower, I scrub myself like never before. The water is especially hot, but it makes me feel cleaner and less disgusting. It is a quick shower, but it helps give the illusion of calmness.

Now, I only feel the exhaustion of the day's events overcome me. My bed will need to be stripped, so I leave the safety of my bathroom in hopes she had enough sense to leave immediately. She did. A sigh of relief escapes me as I walk to my bed

But I am not prepared for what I find.

There, in the spot she lay, a stain of cum and blood smeared across my tan sheets. Breathing doesn't help this time as I barely make it back to the bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach in the toilet.

Like a broken record, the words replay over and over in my mind- I took the girl's virginity.


	14. Chapter 14

I wake with a headache. Blinking a few times, I roll over to see it is five in the morning. Damn my early rising habits. With a groan, I slide out of bed to get ready for the day ahead. Not really wanting to face the stares of the school today, I decide to limit my movements to my private chambers and lab.

The guilt of last night nags at me as I start to make an omelette. I know that it is illogical to feel that way, but I decide making one for my new wife might help ease my guilt. I don't even know if she likes omelettes, but it is worth a try. Besides, there are enough eggs for two.

Even though I know it is way too early for her to be up, I leave the meal on the counter under a stasis charm. I eat my portion of breakfast quickly and go into my private lab to catch up on some brewing Poppy has requested for the infirmary.

The plate and omelette are untouched when I go back for lunch around noon.

It doesn't really bother me that she turned down a free meal, but it does irritate me to think about the girl sleeping in so late. I push my anger aside and try to reason that she is just overly tired or doesn't feel the need to get up a decent hour when she doesn't have class.

I go ahead and make a small lunch of sandwiches and fruit. Knowing she will be starving when she does finally get up, I leave the bread and remaining sliced fruit on the counter so she knows where to find it and return to my office.

The clock finally strikes four in the afternoon when I get up to stretch. I made a lot of progress on the essays I assigned the fourth years, but the third year's seem to have forgotten how to even right write a proper sentence. My back is a little sore from sitting too long, so I take a short stroll to the kitchen for some tea.

The bread is unmoved and gnats are swarming the fruit.

I look around the kitchen and see the only dishes in the rack are the ones I have used for breakfast and lunch. My fury at her laziness begins to creep up, but I remind myself that she is supposed to be my wife, not my child. If she chooses to sleep all day and not do her schoolwork, that is her choice. Besides, I have better things to do than worry about her weekend routine.

After I clean the mess up and put the dishes away, I decide that it is too late for tea. I had originally thought planned to cook dinner, but since the girl has refused every attempt thus far, I decide to face the music and face the Great Hall. Gossip is something I have lived with all my life, but the awkwardness is bound to put me in a foul mood. However, my quarters are feeling cramped and restrictive, so I know I have to go somewhere or risk losing my temper when I do finally see the girl.

Entering the hall, I keep my eyes trained to my spot between Filius and Minerva. The chatter around the room lowers and I can tell people are watching me closely as I cross the room. One flick of my eyes towards the students and the whispers return to full volume conversations. A triumphant smirk crosses my face knowing that none of them are willing test my patience right now.

Taking my place at the staff table, I begin filling my plate with some roast and potatoes. Glancing up every so often, I can feel other faculty members are stealing glances at me, so I make it a point to hold my head up high challenging anyone to speak. After a minute, I turn towards Filius on my right, but he quickly averts his eyes.

"Professor Flitwick, it is rude to stare. If you have something to discuss, then by all means, please say it instead of gawking at me." I try not to be so cruel, but my irritation is a little too evident. The rest of the table is now fully watching with bated breath.

"I was just wondering how your new wife is?" Filius asks casually. He gives a small smile that he probably means to be reassuring, but only it fuels my anger. I know the real question that is on everyone's mind, so I raise my voice slightly, making sure everyone can hear my response.

"Miss Weasley is very well, thank you. But I suspect you already knew that." His smile falters and I can feel the rest of the table tense up. With a nasty sneer, I stab my next question at the heart of the matter. "I suppose you and everyone else is more interested in my after wedding activities, correct?"

Forks clatter on the plates loudly. Students are far enough away to not have heard my comment, but even they can tell there is a change in the atmosphere over here. Several of my co-workers mouths are gaping open and Filius' wide eyes look almost comical as he starts to stutter a reply.

"Professor Snape!" Minerva's voice carries down the table sternly before Filius can stutter any coherent sentence. I look over at her defiantly and she says, "Would you kindly escort me to my office?" Rolling my eyes, I throw my napkin on the table forcefully and follow at her heels.

She leads me swiftly down the corridors to her office. I know that I should be worried about the reprimand I am about to receive, but my anger numbs any feeling of remorse. We climb the stairs and enter her office in complete silence, just the sound of her heels clicking on the stone floor.

Upon entering, I stand at the door with my arms folded as she walks over to her small table of tumblers and decanters. She pours firewhiskey into two glasses and holds one out to me, but I refuse and remain rooted in my spot defensively.

"Do you play chess?" she asks out of the blue. She points to the chairs by the fire where there is a table and board set up for a game.

"I want to finish my dinner," I reply, ignoring her question. She is trying to pull a move like Albus, but it isn't going to work.

"No, you want to fight," she declares. "I am offering you a better way to take your aggression out before you dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of." I scowl dramatically and turn to leave. The door slams shut and locks. I turn back and see Minerva glaring at me with her wand drawn. "Don't you even think about drawing your wand on me, Severus. It would be a dangerous move."

Her eyes dare me to move for my wand, but I am smarter than that. She is trying to provoke a reaction out of me, but I am an iron fortress. I put my unreadable mask on my face and fold my arms.

It is times like this that remind me of when I was a boy at the school. Her intimidation tactics are subtle, but effective. Although I don't fear her, staring her down is a dangerous idea for many reason. In the end, I see that my only option is to play, so I throw myself in the chair with a loud huff.

Minerva comes and sits in the opposite chair, bringing both tumblers with her. Keeping my scowl, I turn the board to put the black pieces on my side. "Ladies first, Headmistress," I motion with a grimacing look.

The Headmistress begins with a strong offense. Other than the commands to the pieces, we play in silence as I let her sweep through to take my pieces unchallenged. The quicker she wins, the quicker I can leave.

It doesn't take long for her to see the game I am playing and begins leaving her pieces unguarded to tempt me. I take some of hers and she takes some of mine. I am left with only four pieces, but she has only lost six. She wins easily so I stand to leave, but her glare tells me I'm not off the hook yet.

We play again.

This time, I put up a little more of a fight, but still not enough to care. We play in silence again. She sips her whiskey every so often, but I have left mine untouched. I have the feeling she is trying to poison me or slip me a potion to get me to talk. I intentionally lose again and she resets the board.

Frustrated, I decide to demolish her so I can take my leave. I move my pieces almost as soon as she finishes her commands to her own pieces. I check her in a hurry only to find she is the victor yet again. She resets the board for another match as I build my strategy. I can't let her win again or she will never let me leave.

This is a much slower game. I concentrate hard on every move. I silently cheer with each piece I capture and grimace when she smashes one of my pieces. Finally, we are both down to our last few pieces, I can feel my victory is imminent. My eyes are lowered and my face is blank to keep her from getting any sort of hint. I can check her in two moves and she is clueless. Commanding my bishop to the final place, I call check triumphantly knowing that she knows any move will put her into my grasp.

"Knight from F5 to E2 and I believe that is not only check, but check mate," she says smiling from behind her glass. I look down and realize what a sneaky little bitch she is. My humiliation is evident as I realize what a huge mistake I made and how she deftly exploited it. She pulls out her wand and waves it, causing the board and pieces to disappear. Confused, I look at her in the hope that she will release me from my captivity.

"It is funny how much life is like chess," she says inspecting her glass as she swishes her drink around the bottom. "Win or lose, the game is a lot more enjoyable when both parties are willing to play. Wouldn't you agree, Severus?"

"I don't know what you are trying to get at, but I'm not interested. I'm still hungry." I know I sound childish, but I don't feel like receiving a metaphorical conundrum at the moment. She downs the rest of her drink and sets the glass on the table.

"I'm not getting at anything. Just thinking out loud," she quips taking my untouched glass and sipping from it. She leans back in the chair and stares into the fire with pensive expression on her face. I stand to leave, but she doesn't stop me.

I expect to hear some comment as I leave, but none comes. I exit quickly and make my way back to the dungeons before realizing that it is my night to patrol the halls. A tempus charm tells me I should have started an hour ago, so I begin walking through the hallways silently, lost in my own thoughts. Thankfully, not even the ghosts seem to be out tonight.

As I climb stairs and check inside classrooms, my evening replays in my mind. Filius had no right to ask me about her. Does the whole world believe that I am going to murder her the way I did Albus? No, everyone is more concerned with prying into my sex life- if that is what one encounter can be deemed as.

I do wonder why Minerva didn't bring it up. In all the years I have known Minerva, never once have I discussed any subject so intimate, so why would she start now? Just because I asked her a few days ago to stop meddling, doesn't mean she is finished. She did stop me from commenting on it at dinner but then force me to play chess with her over and over. Why not just reprimanding me and get it over with? Even Albus wasn't so strange.

_Win or lose, the game is much more enjoyable when both parties are willing to play_. She isn't fooling me with these words. It is some sneaky comment about my marriage; some sort of unwanted and unwelcome advice. It is ridiculous as well.

Starving and irritated, I quicken my pace to finish my patrol and head back to my dungeons. I enter to a dark living room, but the kitchen light is on. Hesitantly, I peek in the kitchen with the expectation of my wife waiting for me.

There, on my dining table, is a plate with hot roast beef and potatoes waiting for me. Minerva must have sent a house elf to deliver it while I was out, so my frustration with her is temporarily quelled by my gratitude. I take my place and begin to ease my hunger with the delicious meat.

I look up after the second bite and see the Weasley girl has appeared in the kitchen, but is startled by my presence at the table. She is wearing a fluffy green bathrobe and her damp hair is in a braid over her shoulder again. I can see she her eyes are tired and bloodshot as I realize that she hasn't been sleeping all day, but crying.

It is a pathetic sight to behold.

"Sit, Miss Weasley," I say trying to keep my voice in an emotionless tone. "Seeing that you have not eaten all day, I am sure you are famished." I'm sure she wants to run out of the room, but it looks like her hunger overrules her judgement as she slowly walks to the seat in front of me.

I pick my wand up off the table and duplicate the plate. I summon the untouched bread from earlier and take a few slices out after I put some of my roast and potatoes on her plate. Her eyes are boring holes in me, as I slide the plate to her.

We lock eyes for a split second, but she looks away trying to hide her face in the shadows. Rolling my eyes, I continue with my food, but she continues to sit unmoving. Why does this girl insist on being difficult?

"Miss Weasley, you will eat." I command authoritatively. "I do not appreciate handing my dinner over to an ungrateful mouth." Her head snaps up immediately.

To this day, the Dark Lord's cold, cruel stare haunts me. But even that memory pales in comparison to the glare she gives me. Her amber eyes should be warm and inviting, but it looks like she is trying to kill me with a look of death.

Perturbed at her insolence I tell her, "I will not repeat myself, Miss Weasley."

"Snape." The way she says my name is more like a curse than an actual name.

"I think you mean 'Professor Snape'. Or 'Sir' would work just as well," I reply coolly.

"You married me. I am no longer Miss Weasley, but Madame Snape," she says just as firmly while narrowing her eyes. The infamous Weasley temper is undeniably about to rear its ugly head.

"No, you silly girl," I correct her. "Just because we are married, does not make you any more of a Snape than it makes me a Weasley. I am still your professor and you are still a student, so our titles remain unchanged, Miss Weasley."

"Of course, you are right," she says sarcastically with a darkened look on her face. "To think that the man who raped me last night would ever think of me as an equal is completely preposterous."

"Quiet," I snap back and point my finger at her. "You know as well as I do that last night was not optional for either of us. It had to be done and is by no means to be compared to such a despicable act. I was a Death Eater after all, so don't you think I would know the difference?"

She blanches, but keeps a fiery look in her eyes. My comment should have caused some nasty retort to fly out of her mouth, but nothing comes. She just continues to glare at me in silence.

Before I can stop myself, I continue on. "But that isn't what this is about is is it? I assume your anger stems more from the fact that I was forced to take your precious virginity, am I correct?"

The horror on her face is evident as she realizes I found out her secret. As quick as it appeared, the expression is replaced with one of rage. Even in all her fury her voice remains low and even as she whispers, "You are a bastard." The words surge a new wave of fury through me as I stand quickly to tower over her.

"I am a lot of things Miss Weasley, but I can assure you I know who my father was." Regaining a little bit of my composure I sit back down and continue my rant. "Your reasons for not disclosing that fact is your business alone, so you cannot blame me when you did not have enough of that Gryffindor courage to speak up. Besides, you had weeks to take care of _that_ problem before we married, so your anger with me is unwarranted, unwelcome, and quite frankly completely immature."

She slams her fist on the table as she stands up and starts to leave the room. I command her to stop and sit back down, but she simply glances over her shoulder and says, "Or what? You'll _force_ me?" With as much emphasis as she put on that one word, I could tell she really meant to say "rape".

Staring at the door behind her, I know that my comments might have been a little harsh, but that's no excuse for her to blame me. We are both victims here.

If that is true, then why do I feel like I have done something wrong?


	15. Chapter 15

I cast a silencing charm on my door and slam it shut. My voice goes hoarse as I scream at the top of my lungs, leaving me with no breath left.

How dare he say such things to me? Who the fuck does he think he is?

I feel so disgusting. So dirty. So ashamed.

Last night, he treated me like a prostitute and then he has the audacity to mock me!

His room was cold and dim, just like a brothel. The tone he used to command me to his chambers when we got back from the ceremony was one people used on dogs and other obedient creatures. It was obvious he had no conflicting feelings about it.

I know there is not a drop of affection between us, but would it really kill him to be nice? Hearing his "ground rules" for something so intimate was so shocking, all I could do was nod instead of protest. My voice betrayed me as I internally screamed back at him.

And then there was darkness. I may not be what he wanted, but there are plenty of guys that would want to keep the lights on to have sex with me. True, I didn't really want to watch his face as we fucked, but he didn't have to be so cruel. What kind of man can't even look at his own wife? Never in my life did I believe I was ugly. Until now. I shouldn't be so hurt, but it just adds to my humiliation.

But the worst part was the noises that filled the room. The chink of his belt being undone and rustle of his pants was enough to make me feel nauseous. Knowing that he was partially naked in the dark made me feel the urge to hurl. I will never forget that heinous sound as long as I live.

Then it started. He crawled on top of me and violated me. No preparation, no gentleness, just pure force as he entered me roughly. I have heard the other girls talk about how it hurts the first time, but nothing prepared me for this kind of pain. They made it sound like it only lasts for a moment and then pleasure overrides the pain as you end up forgetting about it.

This was not case.

I thought he was going to rip me in half. My tongue bled into my mouth as I bit back my screams. The last thing I needed was for him to yell at me to suck it up and stop acting like a child, so I let my silent tears burn down my face.

Maybe it was foolish, but I thought he would notice my discomfort. No such luck. He just gave several more harsh thrusts. I'm sure that was his attempt to "loosen me up", but each one hurt more than the previous. I guess he figured any attempt was futile because he just readjusted his hands to right above my shoulders and set his own pace of thrusting.

With each thrust, I could feel my body rejecting him. And it just hurt. Every. Single. Time. I tried to imagine I was somewhere else, but the silence suffocated me. I tried to hold my breath, but each thrust knocked the wind out of me. I tried to count, but the pain overwhelmed me and I lost all concentration each time he moved in. It felt like it went on for hours.

Finally, just when I thought I couldn't hold in my screams any longer, his thrusts slow and he almost completely stopped. There was hot liquid oozing out of me like lava as he pulled out and I knew he finished the deed.

It took every bit of concentration I had to not violently vomit as I thought about what he just did inside me. But my tears did overpower my will to be silent and I gasped a quiet sob. I am almost certain he heard it, but he didn't show any sign if he did or didn't. Maybe I just thought he heard it.

He left the room with lightning speed. As I heard his bathroom door creak open, I thought for a moment he was going to make me stumble around the darkness to find my pants and the door. Luckily, the lights flicked on just as I caught a glimpse of his hand snake back into the bathroom quickly. The door snapped shut and the lock clicked into place as I slowly sat up.

Had I not been in such excruciating pain, I would have just grabbed my clothes and bolted half naked back to my room. My feet hit the cold floor and I thought that first step was going to make me collapse. I didn't want him to come back in the room while I was still there, so I pull my clothes on and tried to rush to the door.

And then the prick did the most despicable thing possible- he took a fucking shower! Like he was dirty or something! He didn't even touch me. I was a pureblood virgin when he took me, but he felt the need to wash me off of him within a minute of finishing. Did he think I was going to infect him like a werewolf?

Humiliated and angry, I willed the last of my strength to flee his room. It's true, I've never been to a whorehouse and have only vaguely heard accounts about what they are like, but I am sure this is exactly what they are like. A paying customer makes his demands clear, takes what he wants, and then scrubs himself of disease.

With my door firmly shut behind me and locked, I sank to the floor and finally let my emotions overtake me. My dinner released all over the floor and the tears came freely as I choked between the gagging. It was disgusting, but I really didn't care at that moment. I just stayed on my hands and knees, like a dog, and cried over my own vomit.

Before I could stop, I pulled all my clothes off and threw them over the mess in front of me. My knickers were on top of the whole pile, stained pinkish red with my virgin blood. It took about two seconds for the rage to overtake me before I snatch my wand off the table and set the entire pile in a furious blaze. I know it was childish, but it felt so good to see the flames consume the evidence of my humiliation.

The ashes finally fizzled leaving scorch marks on stone floor. If I was at my own home or even in my own dorm, I might have cared. Instead, I ignored the damage and went into my bathroom for a much needed bath. I turned the tap on the tub as hot as I could stand it. My skin was scalded as I eased in, obscenities flying out of my mouth as the water hit my throbbing folds. The need to feel clean again caused me to scrub every inch of my body until my skin was raw and red.

I spent today in my room hiding from him. After eating little before the wedding and then vomiting last night, my hunger was almost painful, but I couldn't let him see me. I am not a crier, but something released today as I stayed in my room, crying cried off and on.

I cried in sadness at the realization that my first time having sex was the most miserable experience of my life. I cried in anger as I thought about losing my virginity to a man I loathed and who didn't even care he took it. I mourned over the fact that I didn't get to share my first time with Harry. I cried over losing Harry. I just cried for everything.

Besides, after shedding so many tears, I knew I couldn't face my friends in the Great Hall. I just wanted to stay in my room and sleep away the pain. My head was pounding and my face was swollen and puffy. Exhaustion allowed me an escape for a better part of the day until I finally woke up completely starving. I waited for an hour or two, until I was positive he was asleep before sneaking off to his small kitchen to find some kind of snack.

Seeing him at the table nearly scared me out of my skin. He should have been asleep. I know that he had class in the morning, so why was he just sitting there eating normally like it was dinnertime? For a second, I thought I misread the time, but the light from the window confirmed the sun had set long ago.

I tried to be civil as he commanded me to sit. He called me "Weasley", so I tried to politely remind we are supposed to share his last name. It was he who called me silly. He made it sound like I was not worthy enough to call him an equal. Sure, I shouldn't have said he raped me, but he didn't have to talk about my virginity like it was so disgusting.

"That problem". That is what he called it. No sensitivity, no remorse, not even a hint of understanding. He just sneered at me in that arrogant tone, so I spat some response back and left. I don't even remember what I said, but he didn't try to make me stay. Thank Merlin!

But I am so hungry now. I'm not sure where he got that plate of food, but it looked and smelled delicious. I don't understand why he is up so late, but now I have to wait a little longer to sneak back out to the kitchen. My hunger is almost painful, so I rummage through my trunk to see if there is anything for me to snack on. I find a single chocolate frog and rip through the package.

Turning over card inside is a picture I am not prepared for. Bespeckled and smiling modestly at me is Harry Fucking Potter. He told me a few months ago that he found my brother on a card, so I suppose it is only logical that he would have one as well. I flip it over to see the description says:

Harry James Potter, also known as The Boy Who Lived, is most famous for his defeat of the greatest dark wizard of modern times, Lord Voldemort. As an infant, he escaped the killing curse with nothing more than a scar, stripping the Dark Lord of his power for nearly fifteen years. While attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he habitually escaped the clutches of the Dark Lord year after year until the final Battle at Hogwarts in 1998 when he finally defeated the great wizard once and for all. His hobbies include Quidditch, studying Defense Against Dark Arts, and spending time with the other members of the Golden Trio, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.

I throw the card in the dresser drawer next to my bed and slam it shut. Still famished, a groan escapes me as I lay down on my bed. Once I get my food, I'll need to get some sleep or tomorrow will be miserable. Bags under my eyes will only start rumors about how I am spending my nights, or rather, how we are spending our nights.

The thought makes my hunger disappear.

Now that my appetite is obliterated by my anxiety, I settle into bed and set an alarm for the earliest hour possible. I'll just have to get up extra early to get breakfast and avoid seeing my husband. The last thought that crosses my mind as I drift off to sleep is where am I going to hide after my classes are over?

Whispers follow me everywhere. It is like the whole school knows I got married Saturday even though no one was invited. Maybe they do. That means they know I had sex with a Professor as well. It would explain the look of disgust that precedes the pitying expressions.

Even the teachers give me fake smiles and apologetic expressions when they think I'm not paying attention. I guess the few teachers that were at the ceremony told everyone how awful it was.

Not wanting to deal with anymore attention, I skip all the meals in the Great Hall and go directly to the kitchen instead. At least the elves don't seem treat me any differently. They simply cram food into my hands and scamper about excitedly.

When my first day back at class is finally done, I rush to the Gryffindor tower. It is the only place I know of for sure that Snape won't be. Luckily, I don't run into anyone in the tower as I head to Hermione's room. Thankfully, she didn't change the password after I left either.

The room is so different from when I left. My half of the room is completely empty. It makes me feel a little better that she didn't immediately take over the space. I sit on the bed for a while before deciding that I need to take my mind off the day, so I move to her desk and start on my long neglected homework.

A few hours later, the door opens. Hermione lets out a small yelp as I whirl around in her chair.

"Merlin, Ginny!" she exclaims. "You scared the daylights out of me. What are you doing here?"

"Sorry," I apologize. Standing up and gathering my things, I start to shove books in my bag. "I just needed a place to hang out. I should have asked first-"

"No, wait. Don't go," she pleaded. "I didn't mean it that way. I was just surprised to see you. You can stay as long as you want. We don't even have to talk. Just… stay?" Her kind brown eyes are sincere as I nod and sit back down in the chair. She waits for a minute and then begins gathering up clean clothes and toiletries.

"We had to pickle leeches in Herbology today, I'm going to get cleaned up before dinner," she answers when my eyes ask what she is doing. "Take as much time as you need in here. No one else knows the password, so you should be fine." Hermione gives me a small smile and then leaves. She really the best friend a girl could ever ask for.

I am still working on a transfiguration essay when Hermione comes back and settles on to her bed with a book. We don't talk at all. She offers to walk with me to dinner, but I explain that I have plenty of snacks to hold me over. After dinner, she returns to her bed with her book and reads quietly.

At ten minutes until nine, I clean up my papers and bid Hermione good night before heading back to my new room. There is only a single light in the living room and I can see a brighter light shining down the hallway in the study. I walk down the hall to my room and catch a glimpse of a dark figure at the desk as I rush past. Thankfully, he doesn't call out to me and I make it to my room in peace.

Tuesday and Wednesday, I follow the same routine with Hermione. She doesn't ask my anything except simple questions like if I need help with an assignment or if I would like her to bring me back anything from dinner. We keep the conversation light and superficial, but it does help.

By the time Thursday rolls around, I feel like I am ready to talk to Hermione. I start my homework just like I do everyday and she enters sometime before dinner. As soon as I hear the door creak open, I drop my quill and face her. She drops her bag on a nearby chair and sits on the bed as she realizes I want to talk. I move to the bed and we sit in silence for a moment while I try to figure out how to start.

"So how is everything?" It is a simple enough question.

"Fine." I shrug nonchalantly, but she knows I am lying.

"Good," she declares. "Then why don't you walk with me to dinner?" Rolling my eyes, I glance over and she gives me a pointed look.

"Everything is so messed up," I finally admit, rubbing my face. "He treats me like a child. No, he treats me like a dog. No, he treats me like a house elf." Hermione scowls at my comment. I know she is all for Elf Liberation, but at least she understands the analogy.

"Maybe he just doesn't know how to treat you," she wonders out loud. This time, I give her narrow eyes. She shakes her head and continues, "Think about it. He has spent years playing a double agent in a war. I can assume there was never really anytime for him to be seeing anyone, so now he is suddenly in a relationship and doesn't know how it's supposed to work."

"We don't have a relationship," I retort. "He told me plainly that just because we are married, doesn't make me anything more to him. He is a teacher still and I am a student. Plain and simple."

"So? What happens when you finish your schooling? Then, what?" I shrug knowing that I never really thought about the future like that. "At some point you won't be a student. Perhaps, part of the issue is that he doesn't know how to separate you as his student from you as his wife."

"He set up rules!" She gives me a quizzical look so I explain about the rules he set for our Saturday encounters. Hermione tries to hide her shock, but it becomes evident as her eyebrows furrow and she bites on her bottom lip.

"I'm not sure what to tell you." she admits. "You don't really know each other, but it would seem like there should be some connection. Sex is supposed to be an enjoyable experience, not something so… clinical." Her last word only proves how demeaning the whole situation is.

"I know," I sigh. "And the funny thing is, I don't even really mind the rules. I don't want him to try to seduce me or try to feel me up while we do it. It's just I feel so unwanted. Unloved. No, I didn't expect to be loved," I amend quickly as she raises her eyebrows, "but I didn't expect to be hated. I thought he would at least treat me like a person."

"Well, shame on him for not," Hermione huffs. Then adds, "But Gin, let's look at this logically. He is just as confused as you. Maybe he is letting emotions get the better of him and he just needs time to settle them."

"Ha, emotions!" I retort sarcastically. "He has one emotion- disdain. If it subsides, then he wouldn't be Snape anymore." Hermione shakes her head but laughs at my joke.

"Then, I guess you have the right idea by keeping your distance," she concludes. "Maybe you two staying away from each other will ease the tension. It could allow you both to learn each other's habits, then maybe things will get more relaxed and the a relationship will start to develop. Not a romantic one or anything, but at least an understanding that doesn't require so many rules."

"I hope so, or it's going to be a long twenty years," I reply. "But I suppose it is for the best. By the way, thanks for letting me hang out here."

"It's no problem," she shrugged. "However, it won't be long before Ron will be here." My head snaps up. She blushes deeply before explaining. "Professor McGonagall told me yesterday that married students will now share dorms so we can have some privacy."

The thought of my brother and Hermione engaging in wedding night activities flashes briefly through my head before I let out a slight gag. Hermione catches my reaction and gives me a playful push.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she admonishes. "I just meant that your brother will have access to this room so hiding won't be so simple. Especially, since he and Harry are pretty much attached at the hip these days."

I look away as something stabs at my heart. Hermione sees my reaction and changes the subject to her wedding.

"So we are getting married at your house," Hermione reveals. "Just a small, simple ceremony with our parents, your siblings and a couple of our other friends. I am leaving the school around nine in the morning so I can go over and get ready. Are you going to come with me, then?"

"Huh?"

"Well," she smiles. "I was hoping that you would be like my maid of honor."

Surprised at her request, I shake my head. "I don't know, Hermione. I'm not exactly the most cheerful person you could have at your side. Don't you want someone else?"

"Who else would I want?" she questions. "You are practically going to be my sister and you are my best girl friend. You don't have to be cheerful, you just have to reassure me that I'm not crazy for marrying your brother."

"Hermione, you are crazy for marrying my brother," I point out. "I mean the bloke isn't really my type, but to each her own." I flash her a brief smile before agreeing. "It is your day and if you really want me as your maid of honor I will do it."

She squeals and wraps her arms around me in a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! And you can wear whatever dress you have. I don't really care. I just want you there to share the day with me."

"Then I will be," I respond solemnly. "For better or worse. Richer or poor. In sickness and in health. I will be your Maid of Honor." We exchange smiles for a second, but then I realize something. "Hermione be honest. Is Harry going to be Ron's best man?" She nods with reluctance.

"But the guys won't be there until way later in the afternoon," she reassures me, "and you don't even have to talk to him if you don't want to. You can stay by me all day if you want."

"It's your day," I remind her. "I'll be fine. Harry and I will just have to get along for your sake. Don't worry, it won't be a problem. Just do me one favor? Don't tell Ron about, well, anything. Promise?"

"Ginny," she nearly whines. "He is my best friend and will soon be my husband, as well as your brother. He's already worried sick about you and I haven't even told him you've been hiding out in my room everything for the last few days. He needs to know you are okay."

"I know. I just don't want him doing anything stupid. You know how he is." She rolls her eyes, probably remembering all the stupid overreactions he's had in the past. "I know it is wrong of me to ask you to hide anything from him, but just don't tell him everything. Just tell him I am fine."

"I'll do my best to put his mind at ease without telling him too much," Hermione promises. "Just promise me that you will at least talk to him at some point?"

"I will," I promise back. "I'm sure the whole family will want to talk to me on Saturday. Maybe by then, things between me and Snape will have calmed down a bit."

"One can only hope," she mused. "Now come on. I know you aren't ready for dinner in the Great Hall, so let's head to the kitchen and see if we can get something from the elves." Grateful at her suggestions, we jump off the bed and head for the kitchens.

My world may seem bleak, but at least she is able to put a little light back in it.


	16. Chapter 16

The week continues on, but I hardly seem my new wife. She passes me quickly on her way to classes every morning, and in the evenings, she stays out until just before curfew. Every night she sneaks in and runs to her room without a second glance.

I think she has told her friends about our argument in the kitchen or the wedding night. Or both. I can tell because Weasley grits his teeth every time he sees me, Potter has a continual scowl on his face, and Granger completely avoids my eyes whenever we are in the same room.

There is one interesting development in my entire situation though. Minerva has requested me to meet her in her office after all of my nightly patrols from now until the end of the term. My patrols are usually Sundays and Wednesdays, so I obliged her. After my Wednesday night patrol, we play wizard's chess again.

This time, we did not speak other than to command our pieces. We both drank a glass of brandy this time and played three games. She won the first two and I won the last. When it was time for me to go, she didn't offer any twisted metaphor or sagely advice this time. It was simple good night followed by a reminder to come Sunday.

Her intentions are unclear, so all I can think is that the woman is either lonely or this is her attempt to get me to talk about my marriage. Of course, if it is the latter, I will just divert the subject or ignore her inquisition completely. Either way, it at least gives me an hour or two away from my miserable situation.

On Friday morning, I finally get the chance to speak with the girl, so I stop her on her way out the door for class. She turns slowly and gives me a cold glare, but doesn't utter a word.

"Miss Weasley, tomorrow is Saturday," I inform her with the hope that she doesn't try to make this anymore awkward.

"Obviously, Professor," she replies icily, "How could I possibly forget my least favorite day of the week?" I expected such a response, so I reflect her tone back.

"Then I expect you at ten o'clock sharp tomorrow evening." She says nothing in return, but I know she understood by they way she huffs on her way out. The witch couldn't be anymore frustrating.

Thankfully, Saturday is a dinner party at the Malfoys. Malfoy dinners always contain three things- good food, good wine, and good conversation. They always ensure the elite of society is there mingling and the atmosphere reflects it with the most intelligent of the magical community.

As per usual, I arrive before most of the guests to have a drink with Lucius. This will be the first large gathering he has had since vowing to change his ways. I can see he is nervous at the thought of having tempting young women wandering the room tonight, so I try to be as supportive and reassuring as I can.

We chat lightly as the door bell begins to announce the arrival of guests. Not in the mood to greet guests, we stay in his study discussing his week.

"This is going to be impossible," he exclaims in exasperation. "Nothing has worked. I have tried to start conversations with her, opened doors for her, and I even asked if she needed extra money for the party tonight."

"It's only been a week," I point out with a shake of my head. "I told you this would take time."

"But she hasn't even acknowledged me," he practically shrieks. "At the very least, I expected her to notice I was acting differently, but it is like I am invisible!"

"Your wife is a very intelligent woman. There is no doubt in my mind that she has not only noticed, but she is suspicious. She could be waiting for the other shoe to drop," I muse thoughtfully. "She probably thinks there is some ulterior motive."

"But there is some ulterior motive," he reminds me. "I wouldn't do these things if I didn't want something in return."

"That's not what I mean," I clarify. "I mean, a change in your manners is something she is bound to notice, but not something she can fully trust. She probably thinks your behaviour will change once you get what you want. Is it that far fetched for her to believe that you are only acting this way in order to ensure she will look the other way for another one of your affairs?"

"Then what do I do?"

"Just keep it up," I advise. "Eventually she will start to see this is more than just an act. And you could do more as well. Ask her for a dance tonight, don't demand it. Let her make the choice to join you. Offer to get her drink refreshed. She will be playing hostess, so stay at her side."

The grandfather clock chimes loudly, signalling dinner is about to start. We finish our liquor and walk to his dining room hastily. As usual, his place is at the head of the table with a Narcissa on his left and I on his right, so we all sit as food appears magically.

Narcissa immediately turns her attention away from Lucius and to Astoria Greengrass seated next to her. They chatter away about Astoria and Draco's recent honeymoon to some sunny Caribbean island. Lucius picks at his food sullenly, so I try to engage him in conversation as well.

After a few minutes, he falls silent and waves me off irritably as he tries to catch Narcissa's attention. She answers him politely as he randomly asks questions, but continues to focus on her new daughter-in-law. It becomes an entertaining show for me as I watch Lucius fawn over his wife while she spurns his attempts every time. Karma sure has a way of expressing herself.

Dinner ends with retirement to the larger ballroom for drinks and dancing. I nudge Lucius in the side to remind him of our conversation. He strolls casually to Narcissa and murmurs the request softly holding his hand out. She hesitates slightly, but then puts on fake smile for her guests as she accepts his invitation.

Standing off to the side, I watch the pair relax into a smooth waltz. It is interesting to see this new shift between them. Like a teenager in love, his grey eyes gaze upon Narcissa with reverence. But Lucius continues to attempt a seduction with whispers in her ear and hopeful smiles. She smiles at guests around the room, but refuses to look back at him as she gives one word responses. Not that I blame her, the woman knows better than to trust him.

The waltz finishes and Narcissa glides away from Lucius before he can pull her into another dance. The defeat and frustration are evident as he tries to follow, but I hold him back with a sharp reminder that he needs to pursue smartly, not hastily. He snatches a flute from the passing tray.

"See what I mean?" he questions glumly. "She doesn't even care." He throws back the champagne in one gulp. Rolling my eyes, I move in front of him and lower my voice.

"Patience, old friend," I remind him. "Even winter takes time to thaw."

"Meh," he sighs. "I need another drink."

He stalks off gloomily to a nearby table as I scan the room for his wife. She is involved in a lively conversation with a group of ladies several meters away. Knowing how stubborn they can both be, I decide it is time for a little push of my own. Setting my drink down, I walk over to her group and ask for a dance. She smiles warmly and accepts.

Personally, I make it a point to never dance, but desperate times call for desperate measures and she is a fine partner. Even though I am supposed to lead, she gently glides across the floor with little guidance.

"You know," she muses lightly, "Dance is ten percent knowledge and ninety percent confidence. It is obvious you know the steps but your confidence is absurdly low."

"Forgive me," I apologize slowly, choosing my words carefully. "Confidence is hard to come by when you don't have a steady partner to practice with. I suppose I will just have to rely on your confidence in this art."

"You could find a steady partner," she suggests as I release her in a twirl. "A good dance partner is meant to compliment your style and movements."

"Must be why you and Lucius are so graceful when you waltz," I jest good naturedly. Her smile falters slightly and she tilts her head in Lucius' direction.

"Something is going on," she confides in a low tone. "As his friend, I know you are in on whatever scheme he is trying to pull."

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," I lie with a smirk.

"You may have played a double agent during the war, but you are a terrible liar," she declares boldly. "I know I can trust you, but Lucius is a different story. You have to convince him to stop whatever it is he is planning. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I can't take it."

Startled by her plea, I frown slightly at her serious face. I have not said a word, but she seems to have guessed his intentions. A woman in her position should be happy her husband has come to his senses. Then I remember- her love is already taken by another.

Gently as I can, I reply in a low voice, "Lucius is a man who gets what he wants, one way or another. I think it would be best for you to at least try to be open about this."

"Married for one week and you think you can give me advice on how to handle marital dynamics? You have no idea about what you are talking about," she hisses bitterly.

"Did you ever consider that maybe people change? We are getting older. The world is different from how it once was," I hint back.

"Ha," she scoffs, "I will give you one thing- I am getting older. Instead of becoming wiser, I have become tired. Is it too much to ask to leave me to live in peace?"

"Not when the possibility of obtaining happiness is so close for the last few people I care about. I cannot hold him back anymore than I could stop the Dark Lord from rising," I retort. Her face saddens and she shakes her head.

"Your loyalty to my husband all these years, through the good times and the bad is admirable," she states calmly. "If we had been blessed with a daughter, she would have surely been promised to you. But I shudder to think of the weight he placed on your shoulders to get you involved."

"Then put your mind at ease," I reassure her. "I support your husband in his endeavours, but this task is his and his alone. I have made it clear that I am not to be involved with this plot."

"I see you still have your honor," she sighs heavily with a half smile. I give a tilt of my head to agree. "I suppose I should have learned by now to let Lucius do as he pleases. Nothing I say or do is going to stop him, so I guess I will just see how things play out. Thank you for the warning."

"And I thought we were just dancing," I tease as the music ends and she steps back. We bow to each other. "Until the next dance, Madame Malfoy."

"Until the next dance," she returns sincerely. As if the conversation never happened, she dons a brilliantly bright smile and moves across the floor to mingle with her guests. I chuckle to myself and move back to Lucius who watched from the side.

"Well?" he questions anxiously.

"She is stubborn, hesitant, and will probably still put up a fight," I casually shrug. Lucius huffs loudly, so I add, "But I think you should just be patient and keep trying. She is smarter than you think, my friend. Don't underestimate her."

My words seem to reassure his fragile ego. Straightening up like a man who remembered his mission, he briskly crosses the room with a determined look. Taking his place by her side, Lucius blends into the background and waits to strike at the perfect opportunity.

I silently laugh as I think about the Malfoys. It is funny how two people, so perfect for each other can't see it for themselves. Must be why friends like me have to be the voice of reason.

* * *

"How do I look?" Hermione turns from the mirror and presents herself before me. A true, genuine smile of happiness spreads across my face.

"Beautiful," I reply sincerely. "Absolutely stunning."

She blushes and smoothes the front of her snow white gown. Traditional binding ceremonies have the bride and groom in blue wedding robes, but Ron insisted in honoring Hermione's muggle traditions with a wedding dress.

Hermione twirls in a circle, letting bouncy curls fly over her shoulder happily. Slightly jealous and saddened by such a picturesque scene, I close my eyes. Deep down I am very happy for them, but memory of my own ruined future still mocks me, tainting the beauty of the day. _No_ , I tell myself, _today is about Hermione and Ron, so stop sniveling_. I bury my negative feelings and place a happy look on my face.

Just like Bill and Fleur's wedding over a year ago, my parents had the giant tent erected and the golden chairs placed in neat rows. Although this wedding is much smaller, it is just as bright and elegant. Hermione paces the living room as the final minutes to the wedding tick away.

Through the window, I see Ron nervously fidgeting with his cuffs. He is flushed and shifting about, but I know he is excited. Hermione watches him with a mixed of expression of love and joy. There is no doubt in my mind that she loves my brother with all her heart.

Then I see him standing next to Ron. Harry. He is dressed in a royal purple button down shirt with black slacks and a black vest. While Ron mutters something next to him, Harry nods, but his expression is vacant like he is deep in thought. It is too painful to watch, so I take up pacing the living room while Hermione continues to watch.

Finally, the music starts up and Mr. Granger comes in the house to get Hermione. I leave first with a small bouquet of daisies and walk down the aisle. There is a collective gasp of awe as Mr. Granger escorts Hermione to my brother.

The ceremony is short but touching. Women in the golden chairs dab their tears of joy and men nod approvingly as the Ministry official performs the charms over the couple. I keep my eyes trained on Hermione and Ron, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that Harry is staring straight at me the entire time.

I stand motionless with forward facing eyes, hoping that Harry will not make a scene. Please not today. Any other day, but not today. With the memory of my own miserable binding ceremony still fresh in my mind, I intend to make sure nothing ruins Hermione's wedding.

Once the ceremony ends, we all retire to our assigned tables. There are five circular tables seating several guests. I take my place between Hermione and Neville as the food starts appearing on the tables.

Neville and I chat lightly as I do everything in my power to ignore Harry, who is two seats down from me. I can still feel his eyes boring into me as I focus my attention on Neville telling me all about how he and Hannah Abbott came to be in a relationship before the marriage law forced them to marry so quickly.

Dinner is light and delicious, but I don't eat much. People begin rising from the tables and mingling about as the dancing starts up. I remain in my seat as Neville and Hannah move to the dance floor for a slow dance.

A light tap on my shoulder startles me as I turn around. My father stands with his hand out motioning to the dance floor. Relieved, I take it with a smile and he leads me onto the floor.

"You look lovely, dear daughter," he says as we start to move. "It is nice to see you twice in one week."

"Thank you," I smile. "I guess it is a bit unusual to see you so much during the school year."

"Well, you are always welcome to visit on the weekends," he reminds me. "Or your mother and I can always meet you in Hogsmeade for dinner during the week. Anytime." He emphasizes the last word pointedly.

"I know, but I'm fine," I lie. "Really, I don't need you visiting school all the time to check on me." My father seems to have gotten past the shock of my marriage and now the worry is setting in.

"Of course not," he agrees. "I just meant that it would be no trouble if you ever need to meet. Or talk. Or anything else." I nod in understanding.

_He is only trying to be supportive_ , I remind myself. I give him a reassuring smile in an effort to prove everything is okay, but I am not sure he buys it. He doesn't comment further and we finish the dance with more small talk.

As I step away to return to my table, I come face to face with Harry. My throat dries up and I feel like all eyes are on us as he holds his hand out to indicate he wants to dance.

I shake my head and try to leave but he stops me. "Please," he pleads in a whisper. "Just one dance. Just one." I look around for someone to save me, but no one comes. Reluctantly, I take his hand and pray that he won't do something stupid.

We step on the dance floor and start a slow waltz with a music. Four years ago, his dancing was atrocious, but he seems to have practiced since then. We move in silence as I keep my eyes everywhere but him.

"Ginny," he finally says. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry-"

"Don't, Harry," I cut him off with a shake of my head. "This is not the time or the place. I am not going to fight with you here."

"I know," he nods quickly. "I just wanted to apologize again and tell you that I will make this up to you."

"I don't need your pity," I hiss back. "I don't want you to make it up to me. I told you I want you to stay away from me, but you can't even do that." He green eyes look hurt as I stare back coldly. It takes everything I have to hide my own pain behind a mask of anger.

"You're right, I can't," he agrees. "I love you and I can't stay away from you."

"Funny, you didn't seem to have a problem doing it last year," I snap. "Why don't you just pretend you are searching for Horcruxes again and leave me alone." Rage and hurt fight back and forth towards eruption, but I know I cannot release it.

His face contorts in an agonizing expression as the memory cuts into him. Satisfied, I pull away coldly as the dance ends. "Harry, don't do this again. I don't want anything to do with you."

Afraid I won't be able to keep my composure for much longer, I run from the party into the nearby fields. When I can't run any further, I drop to the ground and watch the sun as it sets behind the hills. My emotions swirl inside me like a hurricane. I close my eyes and lay my head on my knees as I try to bury everything deep inside me.

The confusion I feel between the hurt and the anger is indescribably. When I see him, I want to strangle him and fall into his arms all at once. I want him at the farthest point in the galaxy, but I also want him to hold me tightly and tell me everything will work itself out. He tortures me and restores me all at the same time, but I don't know what to do. If he keeps hanging around me, my walls might crumble. But I can't let that happen. He doesn't deserve my love. He doesn't deserve my forgiveness. Not now. Not ever. So why do I want to give in so badly?

Footsteps approach from behind me, so I snap back to reality to pull my wand out, aiming in the direction of the noise. My mum slowly walks toward me without fear. I drop my wand as she sits next to me and puts her arm around me. Leaning into her, we don't say anything as we watch the sun sink and stars appear in the twilight.

For the first time in since Fred's death, the old warmth and affection that had been shut away inside my mum releases into me as she holds me in the chilled fall air. As we gaze over the land, she eases my tension until the emotional typhoon subsides just enough for me to remember what I have to do when I get back to the castle.

My stomach drops, but she just holds me as tight as ever. At a quarter until ten, I stand up and step away. She nods and give me one last reassuring look as if she knows what I am about to face. Her serene face is the last thing I see as I apparate back to the castle to complete my marital duties for the second time ever.


	17. Chapter 17

I make it to the dungeons at ten on the dot and open the door quietly. The room is dimly lit, but I can't dawdle. Quickly placing my cloak on the rack, I walk down the short corridor to Snape's room and knock.

The door swings open and Snape stares down at me ominously. He looks me up and down with one sweep of his eyes. Suddenly, I feel very self conscious in my emerald green dress from the wedding.

"What are you wearing?" His words drip with venom as I drop my eyes to the floor in embarrassment. I am sure he can see right down the front of my dress.

There is familiar a scent coming from him that I can't quite place, but I start feeling sick to my stomach. Even though it is faint, I know I recognize it. It is like a bouquet of roses but more potent. I shake the thoughts out of my head and focus on his question.

"I went to Hermione and Ron's wedding," I reply slowly trying to keep my voice even. "I didn't have time to change."

"That is unacceptable, Miss Weasley," he reprimands. "Go change."

Stunned, I look up to see him pointing down the hall like he is sending a child to their room. I shake my head in confusion. "It's fine. I don't mind wearing it-"

"But I do," he cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Showing up in a revealing outfit like some tawdry hooker is inappropriate. This is not a negotiation. You have five minutes."

I don't even respond, but turn and practically run back to my room as my stomach starts twisting into knots. As my door shuts firmly behind me, I loosen the sash and shrug off the green material.

And then my outrage sets in- He called me a hooker! I examine the dress closer. It is a form fitting, but not as revealing as he claimed. It is floor length with long sleeves billowing out from my arms like angel wings. The square neck hardly shows any cleavage, but just a hint in a classy way. How could he say that about my beautiful dress?

The dress drops to the floor as I pull on a set of pyjamas and examine myself in the mirror for one last inspection. What if he deems these as inappropriate as well? Maybe I should change into jeans and a sweater.

I roll my eyes and pick up my gown off the floor to hang in my closet. There was nothing wrong with what I was wearing. He was just being ridiculous and controlling. His words were nothing more than a reminder that he makes the rules.

Shaking my head to myself, I take one last glance at my dress on the hanger. Something so fine, so elegant, and I have to shove it in the back of the closet like I am ashamed of it. With one comment he has tainted it into nothing more than a pile of cheap material. A sigh escapes me as I realize I never want to see the dress again.

I hate how he turns everything wonderful into something so awful.

* * *

Some days I wonder if this is all worth it. Tonight is one of those times.

It wasn't surprising when I returned from the Malfoys to find my wife nowhere to be found. Her inexplicable need to stay out of my living quarters is really not such a bad thing. I can walk about freely without having to worry about running into her in the hallway or bumping into her in the kitchen as I make tea.

However, when she showed up to the door in that dress, I couldn't believe my eyes. Instantly, I was brought back to my final year at Hogwarts during the formal winter ball. As reluctant as I was to go to such an event, I was desperate to see Lily and possibly share a dance with her.

It took me the entire year of brewing questionable love potions and a few recreational potions to save the money for the dress robes. Madame Malkin was kind enough to hold the robes until I was able to pay in full, but it was well worth it. Never in my life had I owned such fine robes.

Alone, I drifted from shadow to shadow keeping my eye out for her. The whole school was jubilant and carefree as the orchestra started up the first song. In the privacy of an empty classroom, I had studied books on how to waltz and foxtrot, but I was nervous since I had no one to practice with. But I was determined to do it.

My eyes finally found her in the middle of the floor looking as radiant as ever. She was wearing robes the color of emeralds, her red hair in soft curls cascading down her back in lovely contrast. As she turned to reveal her partner, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

James Fucking Potter.

She was dancing and laughing with Potter. Keeping my temper under control, I convinced myself that he asked her for the first dance and she accepted for the sole purpose of being polite. There was no way that Lily, my Lily, would ever come to the ball with him. Lily was no pureblood, but she was raised to a higher standard than the rest of us.

As the dance ended, he leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She blushed and nodded shyly. I waited to for him to walk away so I could ask her for the next dance, but instead, they both left the floor. Thinking they were getting refreshments, I stood off to the side to wait for my opportunity to arise.

The next dance started and he led her not to the floor, but outside to the terrace. In a panic, I followed at a distance, losing them momentarily in the darkness. I was not prepared for what I found only moments later.

Lily, my dear sweet Lily, wrapped in his arms with Potter's tongue down her throat. As the bile rose to my throat, I ripped my eyes away and ran back to my dorm. It was at that moment when I realized how much I hated the color green. No, just that color on her.

So when my wife of one week showed up in that magnificent dress, I knew I couldn't let her enter my room like that. In all honesty, I wanted to set fire to that dress or demand she get rid of it, but I couldn't let my anger get the best of me. So I demanded she change and, thank Merlin, she did without question.

Two minutes later, there is another knock at my door. Bracing myself, I fling open the door for a second time to see her dressed in a tank top and pyjama pants like the first night. Relief sweeps over me as I open the door wide and let her pass.

She sits in the same spot as last time while I return to the bathroom for my potions. I don't even shut the door all the way as I down them in rapid succession. Shuddering from the awful taste, I give myself time one last mental reassurance.

With last week's encounter still fresh in my mind, I decided to make one single change to the procedure. Opening the cabinet, I pull out a small jar and walk back into the room.

"Miss Weasley, do you have any idea what this is?" I hold up the jar up in plain view for her to see. Her expressions softens into mild confusion before returning the familiar glare she gave me the day before.

"It is lubricant," I answer when she doesn't speak. She blushes a deep crimson and her eyes look way with embarrassment. "You will use it from now on when the lights go out." It is a small solution for an already difficult situation.

Her humiliation is evident as stretches out her hand reluctantly. I take the jar to her and drop it in her palm. She avoids looking at me, but I roll my eyes as I turn back to the other side of the room to get the lights.

Once the lights are off, I hear the usual rustle of clothing and then the lid being unscrewed off the jar. After a few seconds of silence, I hear the jar being placed on the bedside table and the sound of her adjusting into the correct position on the bed.

Thankfully, she applied it generously, so my work is far easier this time. I have no trouble sliding into her this time, but it is still a tight fit. Her muscles still clench involuntarily with each thrust, but I expected that. Again, there is no sound coming from either of us.

A little voice inside my mind keeps trying to remind me that I hurt her last time, but I do not want to prolong this. Unable to take the nagging any longer, I finally give in to my guilt a little by deciding to take smoother thrusts and shallower thrusts. It takes longer to find my release, but it is the only way to keep my focus from thinking about her pain.

Even with the change in motions, the intercourse is still bland. The climax is just as disappointing as it was a week ago. Instead of the exhilaration and ecstasy I should be feeling, a hollow emptiness settles over me.

My resentment and remorse are quicker to set in this time around as well. By the time I pull out of her, I am practically running to the bathroom. Once the door is shut I turn on the shower again. With the nausea back in full force, I sit on the edge of the tub and wait it out, not really intending to get the shower.

With this pattern starting to form from these encounters, I start thinking a calming draught might be in order. There is only so much the human mind can take, and these emotions are starting to overwhelm me. But since I am not one to give into weakness, I vow to work harder on reinforcing my mental walls.

After several minutes, I turn off the shower and open the door to the bathroom. The jar is still on the table, but there is no other evidence that her presence was even there. Even the bed-sheets are straightened as if she wasn't lying there only moments before.

I still strip the bed and replace the sheets before dropping into bed for the night.

* * *

I wake Sunday morning with the same soreness in my pelvis as I did last week. Even with the hot bath the night before, I can feel the slight bruising on my thighs. It makes me wonder what will happen when I finally get use to it. Will I feel any pleasure? Will I want to feel pleasure?

No. At least, I don't want to feel pleasure from him. I suppose I should be thankful that he doesn't try to hold me or touch me during our encounters. His detached attitude is necessary to remind us both that this marriage is not real. However, it is also a constant reminder of how alone I feel.

Knowing Ron and Hermione will not be back at Hogwarts until later today means that I can spend as much time as I want hiding in their room. I dress quickly and walk silently to the entrance of our chambers. Peering into the kitchen discreetly, I see Snape's back is turned away as he fills the tea kettle with water. I rush out the door before he sees me and up to portrait of the Fat Lady.

When I enter their room, I start thinking that I entered the wrong room. Instead of the empty space where my things were a week before, the bed has doubled in size. It takes up far more space, and another desk has been placed next to Hermione's. The bookshelf on the wall has also expanded and another dresser added as well.

This must be what the rooms for the rest of the married students look like. I suddenly feel very grateful that I moved into the dungeons where I was given my own room. The thought of having to share a bed with Snape makes me gag slightly, but it also makes me feel bad for all the people who have to share a bed with a stranger or someone they don't like.

Pushing the thoughts away, I walk over and sit at the window seat. When I lived here, this was my favorite spot. It was the perfect view of the Quidditch pitch with a partial view over the Black Lake and Forbidden Forest. On rainy days, the lightning is spectacular from being so high up.

As I look out over the land, I start wishing I had this view in my new room. The dungeons always feel cold and dark, even when fire roars in the hearth or the room is well lit. It has none of the warmth and homeliness that this room has.

But even this room is no different than being in Snape's chambers. It may be more comfortable, but both rooms are nothing more than a cage confining me. Snape is my husband now and no matter where I go, I can't escape that fact. Hiding away won't work forever, but at least it gives me time to think.

* * *

The girl avoids me again. I hear her leave as I make breakfast in the kitchen, but there is no reason to try to stop her. However, her constant sulking and moodiness is bordering on childish and annoying.

Obviously, the girl thinks she is the victim here, but doesn't she realize I don't want to do this anymore than she does? I have to lower myself to the likes of a rapist and do all the work while she just lays there waiting for me to finish. Does she have any idea how degrading that is for me?

As much as I try to tell myself to relax because it has only been twice, I can't shake the feeling that our encounters will always be like this. I don't expect pleasure or happiness, but is it really too much to ask for no more guilt and disgust? Will there ever be a day when we can perform our duties without the negative consequences afterwards?

Lucius spent twenty years having affairs without feeling an ounce of remorse, and here I am, having consensual intercourse with my Ministry appointed wife and wondering why I feel like crap. How does that make any sense?

Of course, life isn't supposed to make sense or we would never have war, pain, loss, sorrow, or misery. But I should be able to live without the added weight of guilt she puts on me.

I can't explain it, but her avoidance seems more out of fear than anger these days. She sneaks in and out of the dungeon quiet as a ghost. There is no sign of her in the hallways during the week either. The only problem with her disappearing so often is the fact that I would never know if something happened to her.

There is no reason in particular for me to be concerned about her welfare, but people still think of me as a Death Eater and her as a blood traitor. If something happens to her, the finger would immediately point to me. With her family's obvious hatred of me, I am sure there wouldn't even be a trial before they sent me for the Dementor's Kiss.

My only consolation is that she is safe at Hogwarts. The grounds are safe and secure, so no harm can come to her so easily. Besides, Minerva's loyalty to me would immediately dispel any lies of foul play should anything happen to her. But that is just my imagination running away with me.

No, in reality, I just want peace. There is no peace when the tension radiates off her like fiery heat. I set this entire marriage up with the intention of helping us paving a clear path. It may not be a perfect path, but at least both of us know what to expect and there is no grey area. Like the rules, everything is supposed to be clearly defined to lessen the confusion.

There is just one little thing that nags at me- If everything is clear, then why do the days seems so cloudy?


	18. Chapter 18

I'm growing restless.

My days are spent either in class or in hiding. Hiding from Harry, hiding from Snape, hiding from people. Everywhere I go, people whisper, Harry is staring, Snape is sneering, and I feel like I am suffocating.

Throwing myself into my school work doesn't help. I have done so much homework, I am pretty sure I'm ahead of Hermione for the first time in history. Using silent spells is becoming easier and wandless magic is becoming a new hobby. Teachers are impressed with my progress and praise my efforts.

But I am still unsettled.

Official Quidditch practice has been postponed in an effort to "give students time to adjust to their new life styles", but Harry spends nearly every night on the pitch flying around. Sometimes I wish someone would hide his broom so I can get my own private flying time in.

And there is still the matter of our duties. We have one more time before I start my cycle, so I have to work up the courage to tell him. Tell him about my cycle...

How embarrassing!

I can hardly talk about my cycle with Hermione and she is my best friend and a girl. How am I supposed to discuss something so personal? I can't just walk up to him and say, "Hey, Professor, I know we did our duty yesterday, but we need to do it again by tomorrow or I might bleed all over your sheets. And now that we are talking about it, next week I will be extra fertile, so can you do me on one of my non fertile days, so I don't get knocked up. Okay, thanks."

Just the thought of that conversation makes my face burn. The man can barely touch me and I am going to have to get him to perform our duties with hardly a day between? On top of that, I can't imagine him being too thrilled at risking Azkaban to keep me from getting knocked up. But then again, I can't imagine him being too thrilled about me being knocked up.

There is something about the dungeons that sucks all my courage out of me.

The long walk down through the cold floors gives me time to rehearse a speech over and over. I imagine my calm, cool, collected self holding my head high as I enter his study. He is startled by my confidence and has no snotty comment. Without hesitation, I immediately launch into my request and back it with supporting reasons that he can't argue with. When I finish my monologue, he nods and tells me I have a valid point and that my suggestion is good.

But when I open the door and step into the living area, the air is sucked out of my lungs and my knees go weak. The study door is alway open with bright light flowing into the hallway and I know he is there working quietly. The closer I get to the doorway, the shakier I get, until I just rush past to my room without even looking inside.

It is unreasonable and unnatural for me to feel so on edge, but I can feel myself shrink into the stupid, cowardly girl that Tom Riddle nearly killed. When I was finally free of Riddle, I made a vow to never be that person again, but I never expected one man, especially my husband, to bring it all back.

Unable to confront Snape, I consult Hermione on what I should do. She suggests that my faltering is due to the fact that I am subconsciously worried about Saturday. Her theory is that my mind is in such turmoil that it can't focus on what needs to be done next week until this week has passed. It sounds utterly ridiculous, but Hermione is the smartest person I know. Maybe she has a point.

Although I have never been fond of procrastinating in a task, there isn't much more I can do but wait for Saturday to pass and then try to speak to Snape about it. I mostly succeed under pressure, so maybe my courage will kick in once my time starts running out. Without any alternative, it will force me to talk to him.

So, I wait. Restlessly waiting for Saturday to be over. Sunday will be a fresh start, a new day, a new week. Sunday is the best day to speak with him, so I set it as the deadline. Not much else I can do.

* * *

It is finally Friday and the students have spent the better part of the week wearing on my patience. I need a strong cup of tea and I know Pomona keeps a particularly robust brew in the cabinet of the teacher's lounge. During my free hour, I take the long walk up to the second floor in hopes of success.

As I round the corner, I am startled by a disturbing sight. Weasley and Granger making out very passionately. Stunned by the sight, I freeze in place. It is nearly pornographic, but I can not tear my eyes from them as my mouth hangs open uncharacteristically.

Granger is pushed up against the wall as Weasley holds her wrists parallel to her shoulder and nuzzles the crook of her shoulder. The boy is certainly no Casanova, but all his awkwardness seems to have disappeared as his hands roam over her waist and breasts gently. There is no sound in the hall except their labored breathing and pleasurable groaning.

For a minute, I wonder if they are actually about to have sex in the middle of the hallway. Granger has a content smile on her face and her eyes are half closed as her lover's hands slip inside the front of her robes and trail up the side of her leg. Weasley's mouth moves from her neck to her exposed collarbone and back again, leaving a glisten trail of saliva down on her skin.

A flash of Granger's bare thigh sends me crashing back to reality and the voyeuristic tendency I am taking on. As I clear my throat loudly, Granger pushes Weasley off with such a tremendous amount of force, he slams into the opposite wall. Her face is flushed as she begins to stammer out some sort of apology, but I cut her off mid sentence.

"Miss Granger," I say coldly. "Last I checked, this is not some dark corner of Knockturn Alley, but a public hallway in one of the most prestigious schools of magic frequented by teachers and the young innocent minds of children. Twenty five points each from Gryffindor for your vulgar display of affection."

"But Professor," Weasley says in exasperation. "We are _married_. I am allowed to kiss my wife whenever I feel like it."

"Married or not, you are still a student and you will follow the rules set forth as such. The rules of the school state that such behavior is inappropriate." I love using the school rules against students. They can't argue with my logic.

I see his eyes narrow threatening and I know he is trying to come up with a clever response. I smirk at the thought of him thinking he could possibly outwit me. But whatever his comment is, I know I will get to take more points away for insubordination. So I wait in anticipation.

"Rules, huh?" He spits the words and begins to shake with anger. "Like the ones you set for my sister?"

I'm sure the change on my face is evident as I see Granger's eyes widen in horror. She grabs Weasley's arm as he steps toward me threateningly.

"Weasley -" I growl drawing myself up to my full height.

"Professor, please -" she begs stepping between us.

"What's wrong Professor?" Weasley mocks at me. "Did you think she wasn't going to tell her own family how shitty you've treated her."

"Ron!"

"Back off, Granger," I snap back. She cowers back slightly, but doesn't move out of my way. I fix my eyes on her husband and growl, "Do not speak of things you know nothing about, Weasley. I will give you have thirty seconds to vacate this hall or I will personally see to it that your wife becomes a widow."

"I'm not afraid of you," he says pulling his wand on me. He opens his mouth, but I am much quicker. He's thrown against the wall as Hermione lets out an ear splitting shriek and drops to his side. Cursing myself for losing control, I roll my eyes and walk towards him.

"Professor, how could you?" She asks incredulously.

"Relax, Granger, he is just stunned-" I start, but she pulls her wand and aims threateningly at my chest as she rises to her feet. Stopping in my tracks, raise my own wand and give her a look to warn her that she does not want to send so much as tickling curse at me.

In a matter of seconds, footsteps sound in the hallway. Just past her, I watch Minerva, Pomona, and Bill Weasley enter the corridor from the teacher's lounge. I lower my wand, but Granger remains in a defense stance.

"Professor Snape! Mrs. Weasley!" Minerva's voice screeches as Bill runs to his younger brother. Pomona hides a smirk behind her hand and leans against the wall in amusement. "What is the meaning of this?"

I open my mouth to speak, but she is quicker. "A misunderstanding." Shocked, I glance over, but her attention has turned to Minerva as she tucks her wand in her sleeve.

Minerva stands over the unconscious boy, looks at me suspiciously, and then speaks. "Professor Sprout, please inform Madame Pomfrey of the situation. Professor Weasley, please get your brother to the Hospital wing." The two move quickly and swiftly in a matter of seconds, leaving Minerva furiously glaring between the two of us.

"Either of you care to explain what happened?" Minerva asks angrily. Granger's face relaxes into a confident look and her shoulders straighten up.

"There was a misunderstanding," Granger repeats. Surprised by her even tone, I raise a single eyebrow in confusion, but keep my mouth shut as she addresses Minerva with a cool demeanor. "I am sure this all looks terrible, but if you don't mind, I'd like a word alone with Professor Snape."

Minerva's shocked expression mirrors my own, but neither woman is focused on me. I mask my face before Minerva throws me a questioning look that turns into complete suspicion as her gaze shifts back and forth between us.

"Miss Granger, I think the Headmistress has every right to be concerned-"

"Silence," Minerva snaps at me and turns her attention back to Granger. "I will be in the Hospital Wing checking on your husband's condition. You two have five minutes and then I better get a damn good explanation of why you and your husband shouldn't be expelled and why Professor Snape shouldn't be fired immediately."

My jaw drops in outrage. I start to argue, but she sends me one last warning look that keeps me from finishing a single sentence. Minerva rushes out of the corridor as I fold my arms and lean against the wall to wait for the girl to speak. She just stares at me with an unreadable expression, like she is trying to work something out in that clever mind of hers.

After a minute of nothingness, I let out an exaggerated sigh and finally say, "I believe you are the one who wanted to speak to me, so I would suggest you start talking before your time runs out."

"Ron was out of line," she states without a single drop of emotion that would rival my own tone. "And he should be expelled. Drawing a wand on a teacher was the most foolish thing he has done in all the time I have known him. You were right to stun him."

"Let me guess," I sneer. "You want me to have mercy on your husband when I tell the Headmistress what happened."

"No," she shrugs. "I just wanted you to know what I am going to tell the Headmistress when I see her. If she decides to expel either of us, then so be it."

I narrow my eyes, trying to detect a hint of deception in her tone or some hidden message, but she just remains placid with her unreadable expression.

"Why are you telling me this?" I demand. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself and my job when the time comes. There is no reason for you to do anything more than tell the truth, Miss Granger."

"I think we have all heard enough truth for today," she replies. My rage surges through my veins once more as I remember Weasley's comment.

"I'm going to repeat what I said," I snap in a low, dangerous voice. "Do not speak of things you know nothing about." I tower over her, daring her to continue. She blinks back with her warm brown eyes and shakes her head slowly.

"I don't and I won't," she declares tiredly. "But for the record, I do hope for the best."

I frown in confusion. "For you or for your husband?" She gives a small smile and I finally catch a glimpse of emotion that looks sincere and vaguely like encouragement.

"For your marriage." Granger hurries out down the hall before I can come up with a nasty retort. I sneer and slam my fist into the stone wall, sending shooting pains down my wrist through my elbow.

Damned teenagers and their gossip! I should have known better than to trust my wife's discretion with my private life. There is no doubt in my mind that she made me out to be a monster who took her against her will. The big, bad Death Eater forced himself upon her like some animal.

Not that I care about what any of them think, but it only confirms my original conclusion that she cannot be trusted. And to think, I was starting to feeling sorry for her. Every encounter tests my limits and drives me mad while she plays the victim and tells the whole world about our problems.

It makes me wonder what other lies she is spouting. Minerva has already been watching me like a hawk and these lies could put everything I have worked for in jeopardy. If Minerva starts believing I am as awful as Weasley thinks, I could lose my job, my income, be forced to leave the seclusion of Hogwarts. All I need is a bottle to drown my sorrows in and then I'll officially turn into my father.

Sweet Salazar Slytherin! What am I saying? I swore to never become that man and here I am worried about some girl turning me down that path. No, this ends now. This will be taken care of one way or another. The girl will learn respect.


	19. Chapter 19

Minerva sent a note by house elf informing me that after careful consideration, she has decided to let the incident with Weasley go. He will receive detention and I will keep my job. The note should have humbled me into a state of gratitude, but it only made me focus more on his stupid comment. Every time I think of keeping my job, his words replay over and over in my mind.

I should have calmed down by now, but my fury is like a cauldron about to boil over. I spent my entire Saturday in my lab with the hope of calming down, but it only caused me to make mistakes with the potions. Thank goodness it is private because the obscenities flying out of my mouth would likely get me fired.

When the clock strikes ten, I make my way to my bedroom hastily. Weasley sits in her spot with her head leaned back and her eyes closed. She looks tired, but I don't give a damn. Her actions have pushed any sort of empathy I had for her right out of my mind.

Slamming the door behind me, I go to the bathroom and take each potion in one single swallow before storming back into the room. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see her give me a terrified look. Power is a weakness of mine and she is playing right into it. For the first time in years, I relish in that fear.

The lights go off and I don't even wait for her to get comfortable before I begin undoing my belt and pants. She stops moving before I get to the bed. My practiced motions make me quick to take my position over her. I thrust into her harshly. Her sharp breath tells me she was unprepared, but I only tell myself that she should be use to it by now.

With every ounce of my anger, I thrust sharp and hard. A whimper escapes her and I feel antagonized. I want to humiliate her for what she has done, so I hold my release a little longer than I usually do. The potion won't let me resist very long, but each thrust is used like a lashing. My mind puts words to each motion:

_A thrust for gossiping about our duties.._

_A thrust for making me take your virginity._

_A thrust for insolence._

_A thrust for childish behaviour._

_A thrust for crying._

_A thrust for making me do this._

_A thrust for her fear._

_A thrust for humiliating me._

I finish in that last thrust and push deep against her cervix. Her stifled grunt tell me she is doing everything in her power to not let me hear. I sneer loudly and go back to the bathroom for my shower. I don't even turn on the lights for her before I lock the bathroom door. She can find her way out.

Out of breath, I strip and jump in the shower before it even warms up. My face is burning up and the cold water feels good. The last time I felt so much anger was the day Potter and his friends humiliated me in front of the whole school. The shower I took that day feels identical to this one as I place my hand on the wall and let the water run down my neck and back.

Tonight, sickness doesn't overtake me. My rage is too great for me to notice my stomach. I leave the shower and throw myself into stripping the bed down. My body is exhausted from the emotional turmoil, but the thoughts don't seem to subside.

I begin to send hexes at the dirty sheets on the floor, but it doesn't help either. There is no evidence of our union, but I swear I see her essence radiating off it. Any trace of her eventually burns up as I engulf the whole pile in green flames and banish the ashes to nowhere.

Once the sheets are replaced, I throw my body carelessly over the top. I start deep breathing and mental exercises to clear out the rest of my emotions, but to no avail. After an hour of tossing and turning late into the night I decide that the only thing to do is confront her about her disgusting betrayal. She needs to know that this kind of behavior is unacceptable.

* * *

Something happened. I don't know how to explain it, but as soon as he entered the room, I knew something wrong. The door slammed and he went into his bathroom like he normally does, but the clatter of vials being slammed on the counter warned me that this was just the beginning.

My mind began racing to find a reason for this change. Had I upset him? Did I say something? Did I bother him? Was it wrong for me to wait in his bedroom?

There was no time to think because he came back and immediately turned the lights off. No talk, no pause, not even a hesitant glance in my direction. The look on his face was a look I had never seen before. Snape in a bad mood is something I dealt with in six years of Potions class and then with his reign of terror as Headmaster, but this was whole new level of rage.

His boots fell heavy as he approached the bed and my mouth went dry in terror. He hardly gave me time to take off my pants before he started climbing on the bed. I am not sure what I was so afraid of, but I knew something bad was coming.

There was no lubricant this time, but I figured the pain would be almost nonexistent. I'm sure it would have been if he had been calmer. As he hovered over me, I could feel the heat radiating off of him in darkness. He didn't even try to hold back his breathing this time as he practically growled with each thrust.

Each time pushed inside me was abrupt; there was no rhythm. He also went deeper than ever before causing sharp pain to travel through my core. As I lay there clenching my jaw to keep silent I began to wonder what he was doing.

Was this the way it would be from now on? Were the past encounters his way of being gentle and now he finally lost patience with me? Is this who he truly is?

I could barely tell when he was finished because the usual pause in movement was absent. He simply thrust extra hard and swiftly climbed off the bed. For a moment, as he stomped across the room, I thought he was going to flip on the lights with me completely exposed and confused. Instead, he slammed the door of the bathroom, leaving me in pitch black nothingness as the muffled sound of running water started.

Wandless and blind, I tumbled out of the bed to feel around for my pants. I didn't even stop to put them on as I stumbled out the door. There were no words to describe the confusion I felt, but one thing was abundantly clear.

I felt violated.

* * *

Sunday evening rolls around and I make sure to position myself in a chair that will give me the best view of the door ten minutes before curfew when she normally comes in. My outrage is buried for now as I plaster on a calm expression to my face. She enters at a minute until nine and is clearly startled to see me waiting.

"Miss Weasley, we have matters to discuss," I say smoothly. A suspicious look flashes across her face as she removes her cloak. Instead of placing it on the rack by the door, she holds it in her folded arms.

"I had a rather interesting experience on Friday. It seems that your brother and his new wife don't mind displaying their intimate acts for the whole school to see. I assume your parents raised you both to know that obscene groping and snogging in the halls of a school is wildly inappropriate?"

She makes no attempt to hide her confusion or apprehension. Her friends didn't tell her about the incident yet. I find that very odd, but I can examine that fact later. She gives a slight frown and nods slowly to answer my question.

"Upon reprimanding your brother and reminding him he is a student who must follow school rules, he promptly became insolent. Do you know what he said?" My voice is no longer even and is now bordering on malicious. She takes a step back toward the door she entered from, probably contemplating if she will be able to escape.

"He told me of how you have been discussing certain rules I have put in place. _Private rules_. Any idea how he might know of such topics?" I can see her struggling to find the right answer, but when her gaze drops to the floor, it is obvious that she is has failed to come up with some lie. Keeping her eyes at her feet, she mumbles something under her breath. "I can't hear what you say when you speak to the floor, Miss Weasley."

The girl looks up and I see what looks like fear. Her voice is shaky as she replies, "I said it's not like that."

"Explain," I demand. I am in no mood for games. She bites her lip and shakes her head. I give her a look, but she keeps her mouth shut. Annoyed I say, "You will answer me. I have many ways of making you talk, but I am trying to give you a chance to be an adult and explain your actions."

The seconds tick by slowly as she opens and closes her mouth a few time, as if the words will not come out the way she wants. Finally, she takes a deep breath and says, "Hermione is my best friend… she must have told Ron."

"Our sex life is not a topic of discussion for anyone, best friend, family, or not," I warn. Her face goes from fear to anger now.

"I did not discuss _that_ ," she says, turning an unflattering shade of crimson. It is so annoying how virginal she is.

"You are lying and I do not appreciate it," I say calmly. In an instant, her meekness turns into icy rage as she glares at me.

"We do not have a 'sex life' for me to talk about, Professor," she retorts coldly. "Even if we did, it would not be any of your business if I did talk to my best friend about it. Just because you want to control everything about me while I am living here, does not give you the right to control any conversation topics with my friends." Her face is scowling harshly.

"I do have that right, especially when the conversation concerns me," I say rising from the chair and stepping toward her. "Such topics are not appropriate for people outside of this marriage. I have given you plenty of freedom here and you abuse my generosity by gossiping like a little schoolgirl."

"I do not gossip like a schoolgirl," she defends with incredulity. "Hermione is my best friend and sometimes she gives me advice. I told her about the rules because she wanted to make sure I was alright."

"Have I cursed you? Have I treated you unfairly? Have I ever once struck you?" I question accusingly. "Even Miss Granger can see that you have not been abused in my care. My rules are not restrictive or demeaning. They are tools to keep this marriage stable. For a know-it-all who has no idea how to keep her own opinion to herself, even she can see you have all the freedom-"

"Freedom? You think I have freedom?" She cuts in. In her rage, the tears build up and begin pouring down her cheeks as she yells at me. "My freedom was taken away the day I married you. I have no say in whether or not I want to have your children. I am permanently, and unwillingly, bound to you. It's like being locked up in Azkaban. I have asked for nothing, but you have demanded my complete obedience since the day I set foot through that door. I know you hate me, but you don't even try to hide it. Everyday I try to stay out of your way, but you still treat me like shit on your boots. I understand that you want our relationship to remain as a student and teacher should, but that is not possible. Maybe I don't need to be treated like an equal, but I do deserve the same decency you would bestow to a stranger on the street. I shouldn't feel like a prisoner here." She gasps for air and runs to her room with a sob.

Her speech shocks me to my core. I can't even even comprehend her words, so I stand in the middle of my living room in silence. But I do not have time for astonishment, it is my night to patrol the floors. I leave the dungeons in hopes that there will be time to think while I walk the floors.

The sound of the dungeon door slamming tells me that he has left. It is a relief to know he isn't going to come after me. I hate to cry, but I'd hate it more if he saw me.

It makes sense. His odd mood last night was his passive aggressive way of showing me his rage. Like punishment for a naughty child.

Except, I did nothing wrong.

I had every right to talk to Hermione. Who else was I going to talk to? Him? I can't complain to him about how much I can't stand him. I can't even talk to him about my desire to not have children.

Oh, Merlin! I still have to talk to him about moving our duties to another day. How can I possibly do that now?

This just keeps getting worse and worse.

Students are bold. Four of them out of bed at this time of night. I know specifically the two fifth years I caught should be working on a very tedious essay I personally assigned to be due tomorrow morning. Even if they were finished, they are certainly too young to be experimenting with oral sex. Needless to say, I am kept too busy on patrol to revert to any personal thoughts.

I finish the last floor and then head to the Headmistress' office. The game is already set up, so I take my place without hesitation. As usual, we are silent, but I am thankful. It will certainly give me time to think while we play. I'm glad she has enough sense to not ask me questions during our game.

The first match fair and square, but the second is just pitiful. I find myself wandering back to red headed child tucked away in her room rather than concentrating on my next moves. With each move I become slightly more agitated until her final move puts me in check mate. There is no way I can play another game in this state, so I stand to take my leave. She doesn't even stop me, only stares back expectantly.

"I can't do this right now," I say shaking my head. I pray to sweet Circe she leaves it at that.

"Clearly," is all she says. She takes a sip of tea. After that first night, she has been drinking tea, but always has a glass of brandy or whiskey for me to partake.

"I shall go," I say moving toward the door.

"Good night, Severus," she bids cordially from her chair. I stop in my tracks.

Is she just going to let me leave? I have had dealt with the complexities of a woman's mind already once tonight, I do not wish to delve into yet another confrontation. There is no reason to stay, but I feel odd about leaving like this.

I reach for the door and grab the brass knob. All I have to do is turn the knob, but something stops me and I whirl around and blurt out, "We had a row tonight. She made some completely untrue accusations against me."

"But obviously something she said struck a nerve with you," she says steepling her fingers under her chin pensively.

"She said I treat her like a prisoner." I let the implication of the words sink in. Prisoner. Azkaban is the most unforgiving place in the world and that is what she compares this marriage to. I am just a Dementor sucking her soul out.

Minerva nods in understanding. She chooses her next words so carefully. "Is she?"

"Oh come on, Minerva. No, I do not keep her in a cell with no windows and only hole in the floor for her to relieve herself," I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster.

"And mentally?" Her words are short, but her meaning is broad. Mentally? _Mentally she is a child_ , I want to say. _Mentally she can't seem to wrap her head around the fact that she is not the only victim in this situation_.

Instead, I say, "I have no control over her mental faculties."

"Then why do you feel guilty?"

"I do not feel any guilt. I set rules in place to keep this farce of a marriage from driving either of us insane over the next twenty years. The school has rules, but she doesn't feel the same way about Hogwarts. Our world is built on rules. How can she say it about me?"

"Because rules between only two people is very different from rules set forth for a group of people," she points out. "And you are sure your rules have nothing to do with putting her in the place that you once served for twenty years? Look me in the eyes and tell me you do not want to have the same demanding power over her that all your masters have had over you."

I roll my eyes. Why does it always come back to my service to the Dark Lord? "That has nothing to do with this," I say firmly. "She is not my equal, she is my student. One has nothing to do with the other."

There is a brief pause before some sort of realization crosses her face. "Taking your anger out on her didn't help, did it?" This causes me to snap my eyes back into her gaze.

"I have never laid a hand on her," I defend.

"You know as well as I do that there are other ways to take out your anger than just in the physical form," she says.

"I have not verbally abused her either if that is what you are trying to get at," I retort.

"No, Severus, I would never suggest your snarkiness and biting wit would be considered abusive," she says sarcastically, but gently with a smile.

"She is too sensitive."

"Miss Weasley is far from being overly emotional."

"She needs to grow up."

"In case you haven't noticed, she has been forced to already."

"She needs to be more mature."

"Maturity come with time not age."

"Everything I have done was supposed to make it easier."

"So then what now?" I stop and look at her, so she continues on. "Obviously, you are at your wits end. You are miserable and whatever you are doing isn't working. You can't even play a simple game of chess. How can I expect you to teach on a daily basis in this condition?"

"Are you -" I start. I don't want to believe it. "Are you firing me?"

"No, not at the moment," she reassures me. "However, I can not guarantee what the outcome of your job will be if you do not make amends to your new wife."

"I have done nothing wrong," I retort stubbornly.

"Then do something right," Minerva retorts. "I am not saying apologize. But I am saying that you two need to come to a level of understanding."

"Understanding? She needs to understand that she is not the only one that hates this marriage or the requirements. But she doesn't listen!" I take a deep breath to try to get my anger back under control.

"Then give her a reason to listen," Minerva says calmly. I send her a questioning look so she says, "She is your student and your wife. Your partner and your enemy. A person you have no clue about and woman you don't want to understand. She is a contradiction wrapped in mystery covered in questions."

"You aren't making sense woman," I claim exasperatedly.

"Severus, you are clearly carrying a lot of animosity towards Miss Weasley, but does she know why? Has it ever crossed your mind that she feels responsible for your anger?"

"She is responsible!"

"Is she? Is it really her fault that her name is the one that was chosen for you? Is she responsible for the fact that the person she thought she loved hurt her more than she would ever want to admit to? Is it right that she has to deal with the shame and humiliation caused by that person as well as incurring your wrath? Be honest with yourself!"

Her speech stops me in my tracks. Is Minerva suggesting that her insubordination has nothing to do with defying me, but everything to do with Potter reneging on their betrothal? As the guilt starts creeping up, I shove my walls up and push it back down. My anger is much more satisfying in this moment.

But I cannot stay here with this insufferable woman. I need to leave. I need my private space to recompose myself. Ignoring her questions, I stride to the door and throw it open.

"I don't care," I say and leave. I walk briskly to my dungeons and I am thankful that the walk is long enough to give me plenty of time to think.

This girl is putting my job at stake! She didn't have to say it, but Minerva made it clear that I am coming undone. It makes no sense. I spent twenty years living without incident and now in the course of two weeks, my temper is becoming too much. Minerva is right- something has to change.

We have to come to some state of civility or I will lose everything. Occlumency can only do so much for so long before the walls crack. I cannot, no, I _will not_ let that happen.

I arrive back to my quarters and start for my room. As the clock on the mantle strikes midnight, I notice light shining under her door at the end of the hallway. My rage flares back instantaneously.

The damned girl has class in the morning and should be asleep. As I get to the door to knock, I notice it is already cracked slightly. The door doesn't even creak as I push it open the rest of the way.

My plan to reprimand her quickly melts away as I see her curled up on her bed. I inch closer and see she is dressed in her fluffy mint colored bathrobe with dripping red locks splayed around her. There is a wet towel on her pillow and a wet spot encircling her head. Her red nose and puffy eyes brings me to the conclusion that she must have cried herself out before falling asleep from exhaustion.

A sigh escapes me. I don't need her to catch pneumonia and then pass it to me during our duties. Flicking my wand deftly, I transfigure her robe into a set of pajamas and levitate her up so I can pull the sheets on her bed back. It takes only a second for my spell to wick the moisture out of her hair and pillow before dropping her back on the bed and transfiguring the wet towel into a dry, fluffy blanket.

Once I am satisfied she is settled in, I slowly back up to the doorway and watch her for a minute. As she sleeps, her face is peaceful and relaxed causing her to look even younger than she really is. Her soft breathing makes almost no sound and every so often her shoulders shudder from the aftermath of her tears.

Finally, I flip out the lights and shut the door silently behind me. Like it or not, things are going to have to change. We will have to come to some understanding. Perhaps that has been the issue all along. We simply need to talk.

The only question is how to move forward.


	20. Chapter 20

My alarm charm blares loudly, startling me out of a deep slumber. Groggy, I sit up and rub my face. There is a pain behind my eyes and I immediately curse myself for letting my emotions get the better of me.

I reach to pull up my blanket, but stop when I don't recognize the throw. Looking around, I know I am in my room, but this blanket is definitely not mine. As I start to inspect the soft material, I then notice my sleeve. Pale green satin pyjamas. Again, not mine.

Mind racing, I try to piece together last night's events. After my fight with Snape, I took a nice long bubble bath to calm down, but it didn't work immediately. My tears seemed to go on for hours until the water finally turned frigid and my teeth started to chatter. Draining the water, I got out and went back to the bed in my bathrobe with a towel on my wet locks. I could feel the start of a migraine, but I must have closed my eyes for only a minute.

Jumping out of bed, I look for my robe and towel, but they are nowhere in sight. Confused, I frown. Waving my wand, I mutter a Finite Incantatem. My clothes melt back into my fluffy robe and the blanket on my bed shrinks into the towel.

Horror stabs at me as I realize that someone entered my room while I slept and transfigured everything. No, not someone, Snape. Snape came in. Snape dressed me in the pajamas and tucked me in.

What the fuck?!

It is so creepy. Humiliating. Weird. I'm completely speechless as I stare around my room with mixed emotions. Looking at my clock, I see there isn't much time to get ready and have breakfast, so I quickly dress and leave the dungeons without even glancing into the kitchen to see if he is in there.

Unfortunately, my answer came as I entered the Great Hall. The instant I stepped through the archway, our eyes met and I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Unable to turn back, I post my friends and hurry to take a spot next to Hermione. Even with my back to him, I can feel his gaze boring into the back of my skull.

"Are you alright?" Hermione leans over and asks.

"I'm fine." Clenching my jaw, I give her a tight smile, but she isn't buying it.

"Ginny, your face is flushed and you keep looking around like-"

"I'm fine," I repeat loudly. She stops talking. I can see her hesitation as she frowns slightly. It is obvious that she wants to continue on, but there is an internal struggle taking place. A little annoyed, I lower my voice and add, "The last time I told you what was wrong, you told my brother and he opened his big mouth to Snape."

At this, Hermione pales and her fork drops to her plate with a loud clatter. She bites her lip and shrinks back into herself. A quick glance down the table to where Ron and Harry are debating with a couple of fifth years about Quidditch.

"Ginny, I can explain-"

"Don't," I say standing up. "You've done enough." Turning back to face Snape, he locks eyes in a blank stare. I throw him a quick glare and leave for my first class.

But the rest of my day is a blur as my mind wanders back to what Snape did. For the life of me, I can't understand why he did it. Why was he in my room? Was he spying on me? What time did he even come back to the dungeons?

The questions plague my mind like a cancer. None of this makes sense. Since that day he showed me around our living quarters, he hasn't set foot in my room. At least, not that I am aware of.

I suppose it isn't too unlikely that he came back to the dungeons late and wanted to finish the conversation from earlier. He must have found me asleep. So why go through the trouble of tucking me in?

During History of Magic, I nearly shout out loud as I realize he must have taken my infuriated rant seriously. I told him he should show the same courtesy that he would show a stranger. Would he cover up a sleeping stranger with a blanket?

No, probably not. Knowing Snape, he would bark some cruel comment about how they should learn transfiguration on their own or that he was not put on this earth to entertain people with his magical talents.

But what does it matter if he was a little nice to me? It doesn't change the fact that he was so angry the other night. Tucking me in could have just been a moment of insanity and he'll just return to the cold controlling man I know. Next time we have to do our duties could even be worse.

_Oh, no, our duties_ , I groan inwardly. I still have to talk to him about doing them again in another day or two. Although I know I can't trust this new side of Snape, I have no choice but to talk to him tonight. All I can do is hope that he is still in a less irritated state so I don't chicken out.

* * *

The clock chimes announcing that I have missed dinner. I look at the stack of papers on my desk and shake my head. After such a taxing weekend, I need to catch up on my grading but I am tired.

I tossed and turned all night. Minerva's words played in my dreams like a nightmare I couldn't escape. Halfway through the night I finally got up to try to read for a bit, but the words just blurred as my thoughts wandered back to the sad little girl down the hall. I tried to read until the clock finally struck five and I got ready for the day ahead.

My students must have noticed something was off because they were unusually quiet, as if they knew testing my patience would result in detention or failure of the assignment. After my last class was let out, I settled into my office to deplete some of this large stack.

I'm not really that upset about missing dinner. My wife would be in the Great Hall giving me more glares reminiscent of icy daggers, and I'm not really in the mood to deal with that. Cooking is too time consuming for the work I still have to complete, so I suppose I'll just have to walk to the kitchen later this evening.

As I start reading another abysmal essay on the risks and benefits of sleeping draughts, I feel the aura of the room shift slightly. Looking up, a pair of brown eyes and flaming hair peek from the side of the door.

"It's rude to lurk in doorways," I state absently. "You don't need to ask permission to enter, your desk is over there." I point to the bare table top and go back to my grading. It suddenly occurs to me that she has not used the desk since she has been here. Although it is not my job or duty to keep up with her assignments, I do wonder where she has been completing her homework.

Wiping the thoughts out of my head, I blink back to reality and look back up. She has not moved from the doorway and there are no books or her school bag in her hand. As annoyed as I am with her inability to follow instructions, I don't feel like delving into another argument.

Luckily I am saved from responding as she clears her throat in hesitation. "Actually," she starts slowly. "If you aren't busy, I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute."

My instinct to snap back at her is strong, but I bite my tongue and just stare back blankly.

"Okay," she stutters. "I'll just come back another-"

"Miss Weasley," I reply loudly setting my quill on the desk and leaning back. "I am busy, but if it is important, I can spare a minute or two." I try to keep my voice even, but I know the last part came out a little sarcastically.

She pauses for a moment as if deciding whether or not to continue, but then steps forward. An uncomfortable look crosses her face as she fidgets in front of my desk. Trying to keep my irritation from showing, I summon the chair from her desk and drop it in front of my desk.

"Thank you," she says awkwardly as she takes her seat. I fold my hands on my desk, trying to let her know she has my undivided attention. She swallows several times and looks around the room nervously giving me the feeling that this going to be another terrible conversation.

I almost start to demand she just spit out whatever she wants to say, but I stop myself. Minerva's words float in my head and I know that I need to stay quiet. She has already expressed her feelings of being restricted, so I let her take her time in speaking.

"I know, um," she stammers, "I mean, it has been, well, only a couple of days, er, since you, uh, no, since we…" There is a pause before she shakes her head and blurts out with rapid speed, "We can't do it Saturday."

Baffled, I repeat, "We can't do it Saturday?"

Her face flushes the darkest shade of crimson I have ever seen and she shifts nervously in her seat. Looking everywhere but at me she repeats. "We can't do… _it_." Her emphasis on the last word is clearly in reference to the marital duties.

"And why not?" I ask delicately as possible.

"Because it's not a good day." She raises her eyebrows as if trying to give me some kind of hint to figure out.

"If we are being honest, no day is really a good day, but it must be done," I drawl tiredly. "This isn't a choice either of us has."

Coughing slightly to clear her throat she tries again. "I know that. I meant that it isn't a good day for me. Saturday is a bad day."

"Well, I am sorry to have to ruin your day, but it isn't exactly the highlight of my weekend either." It slips out before I can stop it and the hurt is evident on her face.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes in a low voice. "I wasn't trying to say… That's not what I-"

"Miss Weasley," I cut her off with my hand. "As you can see, I am quite busy, so I would appreciate it if you could get to the point of this conversation."

She nods and clears her throat one more time. "We can't do that on Saturday. At least not this week."

"Because it is a 'bad day'?"

"Professor, please," she begs quietly. "We just have to do it by Wednesday."

For some reason, this sets me off. "And why is that, Miss Weasley? Am I cutting into your weekend plans? Forgive me for not catering to the needs of your social life, but keeping Saturday will remain the selected day to perform our duties unless you can give me a more valid reason as to why not."

Shock crosses her face momentarily as she denies fervently, "No sir, that's not what I meant, I swear. It's not like that-"

"Then what is it, Miss Weasley?" I demand.

"Sir, I just can't-"

"Why?"

"Professor, please-"

"Tell me now or this is conversation will be over."

"Because I start my cycle on Wednesday," she practically shouts at me. My mouth goes dry and my eyes widen as I realize what she is saying. Mistaking my expression for confusion, she tries to explain. "I am a girl and every month I-"

"I am well aware of how the female body works," I interrupt. Realizing my mistake, I rub my face and try to form some intelligent response.

"Sorry," she whispers into her lap. With her humiliation evident and my guilt rising from losing my temper at something so insignificant, I just shake my head.

"Do not apologize, Miss Weasley," I reply trying to catch her eye. "It is a normal biological process that is out of your control." She nods, but her face is still red with embarrassment.

We sit in silence for a moment, each of us trying to figure out what to say next. Finally, I decide to break the silence.

"Go to my room and wait. I will be there shortly," I gently tell her. Her head snaps up and astonishment crosses her face.

"Now?"

"Yes, I need to get to a stopping place in these essays, but I'll be right there," I reassure her.

"No, I mean," she looks around nervously. "We don't have to… tonight."

"Is there any reason why we shouldn't?" I ask. She opens her mouth to respond, but then closes it and shakes her head. "Then we should get this over with sooner rather than later." Silently agreeing, she nods and hurries out of the study.

Once I am certain she is shut safely in my bedroom I lean back in my chair and rub my face tiredly. That could have gone better, but it wasn't a complete disaster.

I am glad I missed dinner.

* * *

I should be relieved that he agreed, but instead, I fidget as I wait. I thought for sure he would insist that he would tell me to be ready tomorrow. However, it does strike me as odd that he was so understanding.

As I sit on the edge of the bed, I focus my attention on the looking around for the jar of lube. It is not on the table by the bed or anywhere in sight for that matter. I realize he probably wasn't planning on using it until Saturday.

Damn. I'll have to ask him for it.

It isn't very long before he enters the room. He glances at me for a second as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door firmly behind him. From outside, I can hear the chink of bottles being set on the counter. Again, I wonder what kind of potions he is taking, but then decide I don't really want to know.

He made it very clear only ten minutes ago that this time between us is difficult for him as well. Is it so difficult that he cannot do it without the assistance of potions? Am I so repulsive?

The questions disappear as he steps back out of the bathroom quickly. He looks tired, like he hasn't been sleeping well. As he gives me one last look, I see his hand reach for the lights.

"Wait!" I practically shout. He freezes and looks startled. I know it won't take much to irritate him, so I quickly say, "Do you have the cream?"

"Cream?" His confusion is evident as he stares back blankly. I bite my lip and work up my courage to ask again, but his face relaxes as he understands what I meant. "Nightstand, top drawer," he points to my left.

I open the drawer and see it is the only thing there. Shutting the drawer, I set the jar on the stand and start to climb back to the spot on the bed before he can turn the light out.

"Miss Weasley," he calls out. I stop and look back up. His face is looking down and away, almost in a remorseful expression as he continues. "I apologize for this past weekend. Marriage is not something I am familiar with and my behavior was a reflection as such."

Though his apology is vague, I can tell it is sincere as he is trying to say so much in so few words. He throws me quick glance of uncertainty. For the first time in my life, I feel like I am seeing a side of him I never thought existed- hesitation.

A man so well known for being so sure, so clever, is just as lost as I am in this whole situation. I can't explain it, but I suddenly feel more connected to him. Like whatever war we have been fighting against each other has brought us to the same place of exhaustion and defeat. Could this be the turning of a new leaf?

Unsure of how to respond to this new Snape, I reply with a simple, "Thank you." It isn't the most articulate reply, but I think he understands my meaning behind it as he gives on single nod to show he heard.

With his acknowledgement, he straightens his shoulders and lifts his head to ask confidently. "Shall we begin?"

Although the moment of peace between us has passed, the relief remains as I nod. I am still nervous, but I am no longer fearing his wrath or irritation like I was earlier. He flips the lights out and we begin.

It is awkward as it always is, but he is noticeably more gentle as he enters me and sets a slow but steady rhythm. Even though he doesn't speak, I get the sense that he realized he hurt me last time. I can only assume that he is trying to make amends.

In the dark, I open my eyes and turn my head towards him. There is only enough light to make out his outlined form above me. His hair falling over the sides of his face creating even more shadow, so I can't tell if his eyes are open or closed. Even his breathing is subdued as he continues on.

I think about what it would be like if we were naked. Would it be better to complete the union in a more traditional sense? Skin on skin, wrapped up in each other's arms, panting as we enjoy making love.

No, I have to stop right there. This is not an act of love, it is an act of nothingness. There is nothing between us and I would be stupid to believe otherwise. I guess it is better that we are not fooling ourselves with fake kisses or faux feelings of love.

Snape gives several out of rhythm thrusts and freezes deep inside me. His breath is still quiet, but I know he has finished his part. There is barely a sound of rustling clothing as he climbs off and walks back into his bathroom, flicking the light on as the door shuts.

I sit up and look down between my legs at the wetness oozing out of me and forming a stain on the bed. My stomach roils in disgust just knowing that this had to be done even though it won't result in a pregnancy.

At this moment, I feel more disgust at the ministry than at the man on the other side of the door washing every spec of me away.


	21. Chapter 21

The fire is roaring as the storm outside rages on. Lucius and I sit in a calm silence in a moment of rare peace. Though I normally visit on Saturdays, Lucius owled earlier asking if we could meet for a drink. With no afternoon classes and my normal late night patrol and chess match with Minerva going on later, I agreed knowing this would be my only time to relax tonight.

He is making little progress with Narcissa. I can see his frustration setting in, but the man is relentless. Her rejection is spurring him on with hearty vigor that I have not seen since his attempt at trying to regain the Dark Lord's trust after the incident in the Department of Mysteries. The more she ignores his attempts, the more determined he seems.

Lucius takes a small sip before commenting further. "I think the time for simple games has passed old friend."

"And what are you suggesting?" I ask reluctantly. Knowing Lucius, whatever he has in mind is not going to be simple or morally sound for that matter.

"I need your help," he states openly. "You offered your assistance and I now feel that I must use it."

"I did," I remember. "You know what my terms are. I will help from afar."

"I am fully aware," he nods. "However, I have one of the greatest Potion's Masters in the world sitting a meter away. I would be a fool to try to brew it myself."

Knocking back a particularly large gulp, I fear where this is heading. "To brew what potion?"

"Don't give me that suspicious tone," he drawls with faux innocence. "It is a modification to an old recipe I found in one of the books of my ancestors. I seem to recall it required ingredients like cocoa beans, the shavings of oyster shells, some ashwinder eggs, a moonstone-"

"A love potion," I finish for him with as much disdain as I can muster. "Lucius, I will not drug your wife into falsely falling in love with you."

"It is not a love potion," he argues lightly. "From the effects I have read about, it seems to be more of a suppressant of negative emotions rather than an enhancer of positive ones. It allows the drinker to become more receptive to ideas."

"That is still considered drugging her," I point out. "It is like sending a howler with a love letter beforehand. No matter how sweet the preceding letter is, the howler will eventually have to be opened. Trying to distract her from her true feelings about you is not allowing her to deal with them. By pushing them aside, you are taking away her chance to work past them and into a state of forgiveness. It could potentially be worse for you when those emotions come flooding back."

"I just need an opening," he pleads. "I need her to give me one single chance. Every door I open for her, she refuses to walk through. I enter a room and she immediately leaves. Each compliment I give her is met with a nasty retort or disbelief. My gratitude is met with disdain. I reach out and she leaves me hanging. How am I supposed to win her back like this?"

I take another sip and weigh the options. If I don't help him, he will not only try to brew the potion himself but probably try to enhance the effects to his benefit, potentially creating an illusion that could break both him and Narcissa forever. If I do help him, the damage to his relationship could be irreversible and ruin any chances of ever winning her back if she ever found out.

The lesser of two evils is still an evil, so I question him further.

"Which text did you find this potion in?" I ask. He pulls the book from the table next to him and floats it over to me. _Modern Negotiations_ reads the title. I should have known he would find it in a text that combines dark magic with business negotiations. Thumbing through the pages, I see glimpses of various alterations of the Imperius Curse, altered potions, and incantations.

"The book is not really dark magic," Lucius tries to reason. "Most of the spells are very weak in comparison to the Unforgivables. That text isn't even on the Ministry's list of banned books containing Dark Magic."

"And I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact that this book has been out of print for at least two centuries and you own the very last copy in existence, right?" His lips form a thin line as he refrains from answering. Silence confirm what we both know- this book is unethical at best and illegal at worst, but it is probably somewhere in the middle.

"Have you used any information out of this book?" I question trying to gauge how familiar he is with it.

"Not in particular. I prefer to grow my family's fortune without resorting to cheap tricks and shortcuts," he responds with his natural arrogance. "I have experimented with a few of the incantations simply to learn, but nothing that would alter the destiny of my business."

I take my time skimming through the potions scattered throughout the text. He may not be a master, but Lucius is correct in his claim that they are very weak brews. Although most are too strong to be used on Muggles, a decent wizard could resist the effects of most of the potions mentioned.

Towards the end of the book I find the potion Lucius spoke of is called _Aperta Mentis_. The ingredients look fairly easy to obtain and the process simple as well. "And what if Narcissa is resistant to the effects of this potion?"

"I was hoping that you might study the recipe and create something more personalized," he suggests.

"Fine," I finally relent. "But I am going to take my time with this. I want to research this potion and make sure it will not compromise your wife's decision making abilities."

"Of course," he agrees wholeheartedly, "I would expect nothing less."

I finish my drink and shake my head. "Just when I think I am being made into an honest man, you drag me back into the fold."

Lucius chuckles. "Speaking of being made into an honest man, it has been a while since we discussed the state of your tumultuous marriage."

"Meh," I shrug. Running my hands through my hair, I try to explain. "I thought we just needed time to adjust, but I am afraid time has just proven how wrong this whole thing is."

"Maybe you should try wooing her," he suggests. Rolling my eyes, I glare back. "Severus, I am not trying to mock you, I am being serious."

"We've been over this," I remind him. "She is a student. She is half my age. Anything between us is inappropriate and-"

"She is beautiful," he interrupts. "She is young, but what is age in the grand scheme of things? She will not be a student much longer. Perhaps woo is the wrong term. Maybe you should try to become acquainted with her."

"Like friends?" My voice drips with sarcasm as I snort at him. "As if I don't deal with teenagers enough, now you suggest I get to know one better. I think you are drunk."

"Think about it," he presses on, ignoring my comments. "The only relationship you two have is the one of a student and teacher. Other than what you have observed in class, what do you really know about her? What does she really know about you? I am not suggesting anything more than just getting to know the girl. You of all people know how valuable it is to know the people you have to work with."

Sitting back in my chair, I return my gaze to the fire in deep thought.

Could it really be that simple? Are all of our problems just a matter of misunderstanding each other?

No, I know plenty about the girl. She is a Weasley; red hair, fiery temper, a knack for breaking the rules. In her second year, she was possessed by Tom Riddle. She plays Quidditch and seems to do well in various positions.

"When is her birthday?" Confused by his question, I give Lucius a bewildered look as I am brought back to the present. "What is her favorite food? Do you know what she plans on doing after Hogwarts? Which of her family members is she closest to?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. What does it matter?"

"These things might seem trivial, but you and I both know any information can be used as leverage for something more," he explains.

"I don't want anything from her," I reiterate.

"Yes, you do," he snorts uncharacteristically. "You want the same thing you have wanted for months- to live out the rest of your life in peaceful isolation. How do you expect to obtain peace when you are constantly stressed over her? If knowing that she like to spend her birthdays with her family, then why would you not make sure to send her to them to get a day to yourself? If her mother is her confidant in life, then why not use the matriarch to fight your battles for you?"

"This isn't a war and I am not a spy anymore. However," I drawl out, "you do make a valid point. I do have only limited information about her. It wouldn't necessarily be a terrible thing to get to know the person I will be living with for the next twenty years. By the way, have you heard any news on the law."

He shakes his head. "Everything is still being held up in committees. I have a suspicion that Umbridge is behind it, but no one will be able to prove it."

"Damn," I mutter. Lucius gives me what can only pass as a sympathetic expression.

I suppress a smile at the irony of the whole situation. Never in a million years would I have guessed Lucius would be the one pining after a woman he can't get and I would be trying to escape my marriage to the girl of Potter's dreams.

Life has a strange way of playing out.

* * *

Rolling over to my side, I bring my knees to my chest. Cramping from my period is usually minor, but today, it feels like I am being stabbed with a hundred knives. Lavender Brown once said that having sex the day before you start prevents cramps. Liar is not a strong enough description for her.

I can hear the dinner bell chime through the castle, but I don't really feel like going to the Great Hall. Besides the pain in my stomach, I am still kind of pissed off at Hermione for telling Ron about Snape. I'm still not exactly sure what she said, but it was more than I ever wanted him to know.

Ironically, Snape does seem to be over the whole incident though. His apology to me the other night was completely unexpected. But then again, there isn't much I can expect these days.

Using the last of my energy, I leave my bedroom for the kitchen with the intent on making a sandwich to take back to my room. The hallway is as dim as ever and the wind echoes through the empty dungeon. I should have noticed the light on as I approached the kitchen.

There, standing over the stove, Professor Snape is cooking. I suppose that brewing potions is similar to cooking, but the sight still looks very unnatural. His wand is stirring one pot with magic while holding a spatula in his other hand flipping meat in another pan. Before I can run, he looks straight at me and gives a slight frown.

"Miss Weasley, it is only six in the evening," he notes. I start to step back as I realize I am dressed in my pajamas with no robe on. He sees me trying to leave and quickly asks, "I suppose that means you will not be heading to the Great Hall for dinner?"

I shake my head and explain, "I wasn't feeling well after class, so I have been resting."

"I see," he nods looking back to the food on the stove. "Well, there is more than enough of food here. It will be ready momentarily, so take a seat."

"Why?" The question tumbles out of my mouth in a tone of disdain and apprehension.

Unabashed, he replies, "There is no sense in you standing in the doorway, especially if you aren't feeling well-"

"No, I mean why are you doing this?" I correct myself. He glances at me with mild confusion, so I restate my question differently. "Why are you making dinner for me?"

"I had no intention of making dinner for you," he reveals. "Contrary to popular belief, I do eat food like the rest of the human population. Cooking for one is tedious and wasteful, so I always cook with the intent of having plenty to eat and leftovers to store away. Or in this case, enough to share. If you do not like pork, you are welcome to make something else that appeals to you."

Snape flips the meat in the pan and looks over as if to say, "Which will it be?"

"Oh," I respond in a low tone. Then quickly, "I do like pork."

He gives a quick jerk of the head to acknowledge he heard and then turns back to tend to the pans on the stove. The table is bare, so I move to one of the cabinets to start looking for plates and cutlery. Although he keeps his eyes focused on the stove, I feel like he is sensing my presence as I move around the small kitchen around him.

As I set the table, he looks over and gives me a quizzical look as if he has no idea why I am setting the table. When I finish, I take a seat and wait. Just as he predicted, the food is ready and he places the pots from the stove and a basket of bread on the table.

He holds his hands out to signal I should help myself first. Quickly, I place food on my plate and then wait for him to help himself. As he starts to butter his roll, I sit awkwardly for no reason other than this whole domestic scene is very surreal.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Weasley?" He asks without looking up from his task.

"No," I say quickly hoping that he won't notice my face starting to get hot. Placing the napkin delicately in my lap, I pick up my fork, but can't seem to move it towards my plate.

"You are not eating," he states. Swallowing hard, I try to put food on my fork, but end up just pushing it around my plate. He sighs loudly and looks over at me. "What is the matter? And do not lie to me this time."

"Nothing," I start, but he gives me a doubtful look. Shrugging, I explain. "It is just weird. I mean it is strange having dinner. Here. With you. I mean, we've just never…" I trail off as I realize how stupid I sound trying to explain it.

"You do realize that we have eaten together for the last six years in the Great Hall, don't you?"

"Not at the same table," I argue. He frowns slightly. "Not even anywhere close to each other. And we haven't eaten together since we got married."

Snape chews his bite of food slowly and swallows as if taking my comment into consideration for the first time ever, then nods. "There is always a first time for everything." So simple, yet so profound.

I nod in agreement and finally cut a bite of meat to eat. My mother has made pork chops many times over the years, but this is unlike anything I had ever tasted. It is moist and flavorful.

"This is delicious," I whisper into my food. He catches my comment and lets out a sound that I can only assume is a chuckle. Embarrassed I blush and try to recover. "I had no idea you could cook."

"Hogwarts doesn't provide all my meals," he retorts. "A man who can't cook, won't survive very long."

Unexpectedly, I laugh out loud, only to see he is dead serious. I immediately stop mid laugh and focus on eating my food.

"Do you cook?" His question comes out awkward and apprehensive like he is asking me something very inappropriate.

"Sometimes," I say with a shrug. "My mom usually cooks all our meals at home. She's tried to teach me some stuff, but it never comes out quite right. It always looks different or tastes slightly different than how she makes it. I don't know how to make a lot of recipes, but over the summer I had to try because she…" My words fail again as I remember how depressed she was over the summer, so I shift in my seat uncomfortably.

"Because she's still mourning for your brother?" He asks gently. I nod and keep my eyes on my food. There is a dark silence and then he clears his throat. "Well, I know for a fact that your mother's cooking puts most of what I make to shame, but I promise everything I make is edible enough. There is no need for you to cook unless you wish to."

We both go back to eating in silence. It doesn't take long for me to finish my small meal, but he still has half a plate of food left. Unsure if I should wait for him to finish before clearing my place or if he wants to be left alone, I take another helping of potatoes from the pan.

It makes no sense, but I feel so conscientious. Is he watching me eat? Even though he offered the food, did I take too much? Was it wrong of me to take a second helping?

The minutes drag by and the quiet is so unnerving as we each finish our plate. I time my eating so that we finish at the same time. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leans back as if to let his food settle.

"You seem to be feeling better," he suddenly says. At first I don't understand what he is talking about and then I remember that I am having dinner in my pyjamas.

"Yes," is all I can get out as I feel my face start to burn again. Standing quickly, I reach for his plate. He blocks my hand and shakes his head.

"I will take care of this," he insists taking my plate from my hand. "You should rest."

There is no room for argument, so I retreat back to my room. As I shut the door, I can't help but smile as I think about the night. It was awkward and weird, but I can't say it was a complete disaster.

I will forever remember my first date with Snape, Death Eater, serious spy, and my husband as a man who has no qualms about cooking like a housewife.


	22. Chapter 22

Sunday morning dawns bright as the rains from the week move out and sunshine reveals late fall colors. However, as promised to Lucius, I work diligently inside my private lab on the potion for his wife.

With the extensive library of Hogwarts at my fingertips, it only took a few days to research similar potions and ingredient combinations to understand the effects better. If the brew is too strong, it could be used as a drug to alter the drinker's mind into releasing all inhibitions to the point of recklessness. Luckily, it didn't take long for me to figure out how to adjust the potion accordingly.

Knowing how much Lucius needs this, I start brewing a few variants of the recipe. Several cauldrons simmer gently as I chop and slice with ease. With no Saturday marital duties, I found this weekend to be the most relaxing since I got married. Actually, if I am being honest, the entire week has been significantly less stressful than the prior three.

My odd dinner Wednesday with my wife was followed with three more nights of quiet dinners, minus the improper clothing from my wife. It did cross my mind as unusual that she would suddenly want to take her meals with me, but who knows what goes on inside the mind of a teenage girl. Like the first night, our conversations did not flow as easily, but as Lucius suggested, I found out simple things about her.

She does not like cucumbers and is allergic to pineapple. She cuts pieces off her meat in a circle until the center is finished last. When she cuts a roll in half, she will only use butter one side and eat the other half with honey. While her eating habits are quirky, they don't give me any insight about her that will help our situation.

No, that is not entirely true. In dining together, she does seem a little more at ease, even if it is just for the duration of dinner. The dinner atmosphere is still awkward, but at least we both know what to expect. It is like a neutral time where we can just be.

Returning to the present, I start to put a stasis and timer on each cauldron, when I catch a shadow in the doorway. She politely knocks and I give her permission to enter, but maintain my focus on the cauldrons.

"Hi," is all she says as she steps just inside the doorway and puts her hands behind her back. I can see out to the corner of my eye that she is apprehensive about stepping too far inside the lab, probably because I have already informed her this area is off limits.

"What is it, Miss Weasley?" I try not to be too harsh in my question, but her presence in my lab is unnerving. This space is my own personal sanctuary and this is an intrusion I don't particularly like.

"Yes, well, I was, um, just wondering, kind of," she stutters. "If you, or well, I guess if we, are going to-"

"Miss Weasley," I warn. "If you lack the ability to be articulate, then I suggest you return when you have regained the skill to ask whatever it is that you deemed important enough to interrupt my work." I motion to the cauldrons in hopes that I have made my point.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly. Drawing up her courage, she quickly dives into the question she was trying to ask. "I was wondering if we are going to do… you know… on Saturday?"

Rolling my eyes at her annoying innocence, I reply with a simple, "Yes."

"Well, I was thinking we could do it tomorrow instead," she suggests cautiously.

Unsure of where this is going, I turn to face her. I'm not an expert on a woman's monthly cycle, but I'm pretty sure it should be over and done with by the time Saturday rolls around. Surely, that can't be the reason for her unusual request this time. It is one thing for her to not feel comfortable with having intercourse at that time, but I have no idea why she would ask to change the day of our weekly duty again.

Her hands fidget nervously as she looks at the wall somewhere off to the side. I wait for a moment hoping she will explain. When none comes, I ask, "Why?"

Pausing for a moment, as if to choose her words very carefully, she draws out slowly, "I don't want children. I know we've never talked about it, but-"

"Miss Weasley," I cut her off irritably. "Any opinions we may have about children are no longer relevant as we both know the law requires us to produce at least one from this union." As much as I detest it, my words are truthful.

"I know," she nods. "But there are certain days that are better for conception than others." Her face goes red as she explains further. "Tomorrow is not one of...well, my most _fertile_ days... so I just thought it would be better to do it then instead of later when... the chance is higher."

"Well now, if I didn't know any better, I would come to the conclusion that you are asking me to break the law in using an unauthorized method of birth control in order to prevent impregnating you?" My question comes out sarcastically, but in reality, I am shocked that she would suggest something.

"It isn't illegal," she defends quickly. "There is nothing in the law that says we have to do it on my most fertile days."

Her continual shifting tells me how uncomfortable she is talking about this, but I still don't know if it is because we are discussing sex and fertility or the idea of circumventing the law. I can only assume both. Oddly enough, with her father working for the Ministry, I have a feeling she is also concerned over the possibility of getting caught and therefore causing problems for Arthur. Merlin knows the papers would have a field day with that story.

The Slytherin in me is impressed that she went through the trouble of finding a loophole in the law, though I am almost certain Granger had something to do with it. My sperm inhibitor is definitely illegal, but her suggestion is just bending the rules in her favor. For a moment, I am tempted to tell her about what I have been doing to put her at ease, but then I realize how dangerous that would be. One drop of Veritaserum and she would spill her guts to any Ministry official and send us both to Azkaban. My skills at deception are so advanced, this secret will follow me to my grave before anyone would ever find out.

Instead, I decide to answer her in the only way I know for sure will keep us both safe, but hopefully put her mind at ease. I step forward and lower my voice.

"Let me be clear," I enunciate calmly. "I will not allow you, nor will I put myself in a position that could be interpreted as treason or as rebellion against this law. Exploiting such a loophole is not only suspicious, but will be very dangerous when we are reviewed in a few months. The Ministry will review our habits and see the inconsistency."

"So, that's is?" She throws her hands up in the air and then places them on her hips angrily. All I can see is an unnerving resemblance to Molly Weasley as she asks, "You aren't even going to consider it?"

"There is nothing to consider. Everything will be _fine_ ," I stress the last word hoping she gets the hint. "Our fate is sealed no matter which day our duties are performed on." I give her a knowing look, but she is so deflated from my rejection, my hidden meaning is going over her head. Trying to catch her eye, I repeat, "Our fate is sealed."

"Yeah," she mutters just loud enough for me to hear. "From the day I married you, my life had to change while yours just stayed the same." She tosses her hair back and storms out of my lab without looking back. I know she meant me to hear her, but I can't bring myself to be call back after her.

Her childish antics grate on my nerves worse than her tears, but I stay in my lab to tend to my cauldrons. When she calms down she will realize what I was trying to say. If not, then she should understand in a few months when she sees that she has yet to conceive. It doesn't take genius to figure out that doing our marital duties on her most fertile days without any sign of pregnancy might indicate the incompatibility of our union.

Though I'm not thrilled at being labeled sterile, I know this is the only way to keep unwanted children out of the world. Besides, there is always the possibility that it could be a way of ending the duties once and for all.

* * *

I flop on my bed in a rage and throw my arm over my face.

How could I have been so stupid? Did I really think that a few dinners with him would make up for three weeks of discord? Did I really think he would take one of my suggestions seriously?

He completely dismissed my suggestion without a second thought. And what does that even mean? "Our fate is sealed no matter what"? Am I really supposed to believe that he is going to leave it to fate rather than science?

It is absolutely baffling. I can see how he would be hesitant to go against the Ministry, but I don't understand how he can be so calm about having a child. He didn't even flinch when I mentioned the possibility that I could get pregnant.

My heart starts beating rapidly and my breath becomes shallow as the realization hits me. Snape is going to get me pregnant on Saturday and he is okay with it. This is going to happen and there is nothing I can do about it.

Fuck!

I feel like I did the first night we were together. My stomach is in knots and I am utterly terrified. A thousand thoughts run through my mind as I try to come up with a way to fix this. Perhaps a bath immediately afterwards to wash my inside? What if I just start consuming the ingredients in a contraception potion instead of brewing it? Could that even work?

As much as I want to run up to the Gryffindor common room to talk to Hermione, I can't bring myself to forgive her yet for telling Ron about Snape and his rules. The only reason I continued to have dinner with him this week was because I wasn't ready to have a civilized conversation with her yet. Now, I don't think I will be able to have a civilized conversation with Snape as well.

Not wanting to leave my room, I spend the rest of the afternoon in boredom. It doesn't take long before the smell of roast and potatoes comes wafting down the hall. Ignoring my stomach, I decide to take a bubble bath to distract me.

Steam rises out of the water as it rises in the tub. Sinking low in the water, I watch my skin turn red as the water burns my skin. The bubbles cover me like a fluffy blanket, leaving only my head exposed and my body blurred. Sometimes when I sit here, I wonder if this is how Moaning Myrtle feels when she looks at her transparent body. Oh, how easy life would be if I were just a ghost.

The water eventually turns cold, the bubbles disappear, and my skin wrinkles. I look at the clock on the counter and see it is well past dinnertime and remember it is Sunday. Snape stays out late on Sundays and he should be gone by now.

Dressing quickly, I walk to the kitchen in hopes of finding some kind of snack. The dungeons are cold and dark, only confirming that Snape is nowhere to be found. A sigh of relief escapes me as I flip on the light to the kitchen.

Sitting on the counter is a plate of food under a stasis charm. Moving closer to the counter, I find a small piece of parchment sitting next to the plate in his spiky script with one single line. Tears blur my vision momentarily as I read:

_Our fate is sealed._

* * *

Nightly rounds were simple tonight. Even Argus kept his proximity reasonable and Minerva kept the conversation light. Since our last conversation, the games have continued on but in total silence. I guess it is our unspoken way of deciding to not broach the subject anymore.

It is odd that I am starting to enjoy our chess matches, but I would never admit that outloud. It is relaxing to say the least. There are some nights I think about asking my wife to play, but I can never seem to work up the courage to suggest such a thing. She'd either run away in fear or let me win out of terror, and what would be the fun in that? No, playing with Minerva is satisfactory enough.

As I slip back into the dungeons sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I head back into my lab to check on the cauldrons of my experiment. Inspecting each cauldron for color and consistency, everything looks perfect. I make a few notes about each pot and start to head to bed when I spot a letter sitting on the table.

The Malfoy seal stands out boldly on the thick creamy parchment. Tearing the seal, I read through quickly:

_Professor Severus Snape_

_Order of Merlin, First Class_

_Potion's Master, Executive Master_

_Head of House, Slytherin_

_Please join us at Malfoy for cocktails, dinner, and music to celebrate the new marriage of Draco and Astoria Malfoy on Saturday, November the tenth at seven o'clock. Formal attire required._

_Please R.S.V.P. with guest names. Overnight accommodations will be arranged upon request._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy_

Lucius had warned me a few weeks ago I would be receiving an invitation, so it wasn't much of a surprise. However, as I removed the first page to fill out the R.S.V.P. card, a second card flutters onto the counter.

I immediately recognized Lucius' elegant scrawl as I read:

_I plan on using the potion at this time, if it is ready. Please let me know if there are ingredients or resources needed for completion._

_P.S. Feel free to bring your wife to the gathering._

I pause for a half a second and consider the notion. Dinner parties at the manor are not terrible, but they are never really pleasant either. In the early years of our friendship, Narcissa or Lucius would decide to try to play matchmaker with their pureblood friends. While they never meant it to be humiliating or degrading, the women they chose were not even remotely interesting to me. Of course that was probably my fault for being so introverted that my own friends had no idea what my tastes were.

After several years, Narcissa stopped finding a witch to escort me and simply resorted to just inviting several single women that she thought might pique my interest. Yes, a few were lovely enough to spend the night with, but none I would consider long term. They wanted a high status pureblood and I wanted a good lay, so disappointment never ensued when those trysts ended.

As much of a prat as Lucius can be, his note makes me realize that it didn't even cross my mind to bring her to the last dinner party. Since we had only been married a week, I'm sure it would have been more detrimental than helpful at the time. It would certainly be normal for a regular couple to attend, but we are far from the status quo.

An undignified snort escapes me as I think about trying to persuade my wife to attend a party at the Malfoy's. She was none too happy about them attending the miserable event of our wedding, so I can only imagine her indignation at being invited to the Malfoy's for dinner. I can't really blame her though. It would be more likely for me to attend Christmas dinner at the Burrow then for her to agree to place herself in the company of any of the Malfoy family.

Shaking the thought out of my head, I glance back at the cauldrons simmering happily. There is no reason for her to attend and even if there were, I will already have my hands full dealing with this potion. Mentally, I calculate the days and confirm they will be ready for use by then. I do feel slightly guilty about doing this to Narcissa, but I did give her fair warning that Lucius wasn't going to back down from a challenge.

Six days to perfect the potion on top of making amends with my pissed off wife. How wonderful.

Sometimes I wonder if I take on more than I can handle. It could be a sign I am losing my mind or just becoming senile. But I guess that is how the saying goes, right? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger?

At this point, I wouldn't mind being put out of my misery.


	23. Chapter 23

A whole week and nothing changed between the girl and I. She refused dinner in the Great Hall every night, but also refused to dine with me on the nights I cooked as well. It is obvious that she is no longer on speaking terms with her friends. I noticed she rarely leaves her room after returning from her classes in the afternoon.

With the potion taking most of my free time and my instinct to give her space to cool off, it seems futile to confront her until I have some way of easing her mind. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the vulnerability she showed me in that one conversation.

Revealing her fears to me is not something I wanted, but I can see how difficult it was. I certainly can't have her risk Azkaban by defying the Ministry, but I can't deny her courage in trying. She risked so much in telling me she didn't want any children and then revealed her plan in hopes that I would agree.

I left her a plate of food that night with note that I hoped she would figure out. When I got back, the food was eaten and the note was a pile of ash on the counter. Looking back, I can see how it wasn't as reassuring as I meant it to be. My cryptic message was probably completely misunderstood and now she probably thinks I am trying to impregnate her.

Unfortunately, I need to focus on completing my work with Lucius before I can fix this mess with her. I have promised myself that once Lucius and Narcissa are finally moving in the right direction, I can focus on moving my relationship with her in a different direction.

So, I approach the front gate of Malfoy Manor at brisk pace. After testing the potions meticulously, I brought along the three that I think will work best for Narcissa. It was difficult assessing her magical strength, mental fortitude, and the other factors that might hinder the effectiveness of the potion, but I think I got it right. Afterall, that is why I am a Potion's Master.

Lucius greets me at the door and we retreat to his study for some privacy. Forgoing our usual drinks, I start explaining the potions before the guests arrive.

"This one is the weakest brew, then this, and the third is the strongest," I hold each bottle up for clarification as well as pointing to the numbers on the side. "We will start with a few drops of the weakest. Once you have slipped it into her drink, I will have a dance with her to determine which potion and how much will be necessary for you."

"What if your strongest vial isn't sufficient?" He asks nervously. I haven't seen him so jittery since his wedding day nearly twenty five years ago. But I suppose he has every reason to be.

"Lucius," I reassure him, placing my hand on his shoulder with firm resolve. "Remember what I said. There is no rushing this. If it doesn't work, then I will just have to start back at square one and do more research. But trust me when I say that one of these is bound to work." I give him my knowing look and he visibly relaxes.

"Right," he nods. "I'm sorry, but I am just not myself. A Malfoy never shows weakness, but I feel like I am failing to remain composed right now. This is all so strange."

"That's good," I point out. "This is the new Lucius, the Lucius your wife wants to see. She doesn't want to have have the arrogant bastard ladies swoon over. She wants the man who can be vulnerable to her, the man she can open up to, the man who will risk rejection or ridicule. What better way to let engage her than to show your weakness for her love?"

Thankfully, some part of my speech get through to him. Lucius straightens his shoulders as he puts on the confident smile I have seen for so many years. Gone is the haughty disposition and disdainful attitude I am sure Narcissa grew tired of, and in its place, the confident, but approachable and humbled Lucius shines through. He looks ready to win her back. I pocket the potions and we head to the dining room.

Dinner is as tedious as always, but delicious. Much to my dismay, Daphne Greengrass is placed on my right. No, not Greengrass, Thicknesse. Rumors claimed that once Astoria became involved with Draco, who is still thought of in society as nothing more than a former Death Eater, the Greengrass family decided to marry their eldest daughter off in an effort to regain some of their social standing in the community. Personally, I think they were more ashamed of the fact that Daphne was having trouble securing a solid Pureblood marriage before her sister and thought marrying her to the former Minister of Magic might ease some of gossip as to why.

Daphne is only about five years older than Draco, but I do remember her in school as a very promiscuous young woman. As a daughter from a prestigious Pureblood family, she tried to be discreet, but Slytherin teenage boys have no concept of privacy amongst themselves. I suppose being known as the "Easy Snake" didn't bode too well when she finally did decided to start looking for a husband.

"Professor Snape," she coos. "It is sooo good to see you." She bats her eyes flirtatiously as we take turns filling our plates from the platters.

"Likewise Madame Thicknesse," I reply politely. "Congratulations on the wedding. May your marriage be filled with many happy years to come."

"What a sweet sentiment," she giggles before lowering her voice. "Truth be told, I had hoped to secure your heart before I had even met Pius."

My face burns at her brash revelation. I am slightly taken aback by her forwardness, but I keep my composure. "I am flattered, Madame, but I suppose it all worked out for the best."

"Did it?" She blinks back with feigned innocence. Although rumours of her seduction techniques swirled amongst the teenagers, I never actually witnessed it until now. She licks her ruby lips and continues on, "From what I hear, you were forced into a loveless marriage with that filthy blood traitor Weasley. I'm sure a man of lesser character would enjoy the ministrations of a mere child, but I know you have a very refined palate. Only a real woman," she straightens up and pushes her chest out prominently, "can satisfy a man like you."

Turning away from her blatant flirting, I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but I think you have been misinformed. My wife is of age, but I shall decline to comment on the aspects of our relationship. It would certainly not be appropriate for dinner conversation." I keep my tone firm and serious, but she laughs loudly causing the whole table to look at us.

"I understand perfectly," she shrugs as she throws me her most seductive sideways glance. "Being in love with a dead woman for twenty year could certainly put a strain in an already loveless arranged marriage." She tosses her long blonde curls back and eyes me under long black lashes.

Thankfully, before I can respond, Narcissa engages Daphne to detail the amazing trip she and Pius took to Iceland. As Daphne chatters away about snowy mountains and freezing desolate plains, I give Narcissa grateful look and she returns with a smile hidden behind her wine glass.

Lucius and I spend the rest of dinner discussing his business as I completely ignore anymore attempted conversations by Daphne. Never in my life have I been so relieved to move to the ballroom to dance.

As the band starts up with a cheerful jig, Lucius and I wait in the corner of the room for the perfect opportunity. Narcissa takes a dance with Astoria's father, so I signal for Lucius to fetch her a drink. When he returns, I slip a few drops of weakest potion into the glass of champagne and send him to the other side of the room to wait for the dance to end.

Just as planned, he hands Narcissa her drink and she sips slowly. By my estimates, she will be under the influence for only a short time frame. Casually, I stroll to the band and request a slower waltz before seeking out Narcissa for a dance. Being the ever gracious hostess, she accepts and we make our way to the floor.

For a minute, we dance in silence as I watch a subtle change come over her. Normally so masked and proper, her shoulders relax and expression softens as we glide across the floor. She doesn't miss a single step, but I can see her eyes are unfocused as her mind drifts to some far away place.

"You are in deep thought tonight, Madame," I comment lightly with a smile. "Something on your mind?"

"Just enjoying this moment," she sighs with a soft smile. "We only danced a few weeks ago, but who knows how long it will be before I get another chance."

The potion is working perfectly so far. She is relaxed and calm, so I carefully select my next words. If all goes as planned, she will remain completely open and relaxed as I ask then next vital question.

"Well, I was lucky to get a dance before Lucius tonight," I reply lazily. "Speaking of Lucius, how are the two of you?"

Narcissa's expression remains placid as she thinks for a moment. "Lucius is… still acting strange, but thanks to you, I know his intentions." She lets out a chuckle at her own joke and I smile back.

"I can see you are still playing games with my old friend," I tease. "I can see why Lucius feels his efforts are futile."

"Efforts?" She continues to smile, but frowns slightly. "Persuading me to ignore my instincts is not exactly a noble endeavour."

"But fighting for your love is a noble endeavor," I insist. "You know how Lucius is. He uses the end to justify his means, not the other way around."

"Fighting for my love," she says dreamily as if considering it for the first time.

She remains silent as her eyes become unfocused and she stays deep in the thoughts of her own mind. We dance in silence, so I decide to gently touch her mind with mine. There is a small crack in her mental wall I watch as images of her and Lucius in their early years together flash in her mind sporadically. They are so weak that even she seems to have trouble focusing on them long enough to reminisce.

Then like a light switch, the memories darkened and no longer resembled the once happy times, but the pain of hurt and betrayal. The crack in her wall seals up and her mind becomes a fortress once more. As I pull out of her mind, I watch her face harden and her body tense back into her normal composure.

"I'd be a fool to believe that Lucius would ever fight for my love," she announces coldly. The potion's effects are now completely gone as we finish the last steps of the waltz.

A sigh escapes me as I shake my head. "You are only a fool if you believe he never would again."

Her emerald eyes flash a mixture of hurt and anger. I nod to take my leave, but she grabs my arm and speaks in a low dangerous voice. "Because you are my friend, I will not hex you. However, I will only tell you this once. Do not speak of things you know nothing about."

Knowing the wrath of Narcissa is not something I ever want to tangle with, I only respond with a tight smile and say, "Of course, Madame Malfoy." She releases her hold and I drop my eyes in apology. Satisfied with my answer, she puts on her most brilliant smile and strolls across the room to join in the conversation with a group of women without a single glance back.

I spot Lucius across the room giving me a quizzical look. Motioning towards the corner of the room, we start making our way to the meeting point. Before I can take get halfway there, Daphne steps in my path blocking my view of Lucius. Her flowing purple robes are cut so low that I can barely avert my eyes from her cleavage as she pushes her body into mine.

"Professor," she smiles sweetly. "Won't you join me for one dance?" I start to refuse, but she cuts me off. "Don't give me some excuse that you do not dance since I just watched you with our lovely hostess."

With no way for me to signal to Lucius or a second excuse on my tongue, I reluctantly nod. A triumphant smile crosses her face as she pulls me to the dancefloor. I place my hand on her waist only to have her move it to her lower hip. She presses her body close to mine as I take the first steps.

Her eyes never leave my face as I glance around uncomfortably. If Pius could kill with a look, I'm sure I would collapse where I stand. Daphne, oblivious to her husband's threatening look, continues to press herself closer to me. The sickening smell of her sweet perfume is suffocating as she holds my shoulder firmly.

"Seems that your refined palate has already selected a fine dish," she whispers slyly. "Though I must admit, I'm not sure how my sister's new father-in-law is going to take his best friend partaking in the charms of his wife's disgraceful-"

"If you have any sense, you will refrain from finishing that incorrect assumption," I warn darkly. I could careless what rumors are spread about me, but Narcissa does not deserve that kind of treatment, not matter how many affairs she has had. "Exactly what is it that you hope to achieve by not only insulting a dear friend of mine, but my honor as well?"

Her smile fades and immediate pushes her bottom lip out into a childish pout complete with wide sad eyes. "It wasn't my intention to insult you, Professor. If anything, I am happy that you found a woman you can love, even if it is _her_."

"I'm not sure what you think you know," I sneer unkindly. "But listen carefully when I tell you there is nothing between Madame Malfoy and I. Nothing at all. _Nothing_." I emphasise the last word to get my point across.

A breath of relief escapes her as she nods as her smile returns. "I understand, Sir. Forgive me for my mistake." However, her smile is anything but apologetic and I struggle to keep myself from showing my disdain.

"Fine," I reply curtly. In an effort to distance myself, I push her into a twirl, but she returns to me even closer than before.

"So," she continues. "Then I suppose it is safe to assume that you have not taken on any lover since your marriage?"

"This conversation is beyond inappropriate and is moving on to plain obscene," I comment drily.

Although she is a full head shorter than me, she reaches up on her toes as I feel her hot breath on my neck. She whispers, "Obscene would be if I told you what we could do in the guestroom I reserved."

A shudder runs down my spine as I feel her lips brush my neck, barely tracing over the scar of Nagini's bite. Instinctively, I push her away from me. She looks stunned for a moment as she stumbles backward and then a look of disbelief crosses her face. I scowl back to warn her we are finished dancing. Instead of looking repentant, she only smiles wickedly and sashays into the crowd.

The clock strikes ten. Cursing under my breath, I move away from the dancefloor as the eyes of the crowd follow. Grabbing a glass of champagne off the nearest tray, I stomp of to the Lucius is waiting in and take a large swig.

"Merlin's mistress," Lucius exclaims in a low tone. "What was that about?"

"Fucking tart," I hiss back. "We're not discussing it." I polish off the drink and reach for another as the waiter passes by.

"Alright," he agrees with a confused expression. As I start gulping the second glass he raises his eyebrows and starts to say, "But, Severus, you-"

"I said no, Lucius," I cut him off with a wave of my hand. I can't explain, but I feel utterly humiliated and enraged. I may not love my wife, but for that woman to discuss becoming my mistress so openly makes my stomach lurch. There may not be much of my reputation, but I am not ready to admit defeat in my marriage just yet.

"Fine," Lucius huffs in agitation. "Then can we discuss my wife?" He must sense my frustration, but he is smart enough to not continue down this road. While I am sure we will end up discussing it at a later date, I am all too happy to change the subject.

He lets me finish off the second drink and gives me time to explain. "The potion works, but her feelings of resentment go far deeper than either of us realized. However, the weakest brew seems to be just enough to help, but I suggest you use it only after the two of you have an honest conversation about the infidelity. It will be more effective to resolve the problem rather than covering it up."

"I will take that under advisement," he replies as I press the vial in his hand. "But if she won't sit in the same room with me for ten minutes, that conversation will never happen."

"You must try," I insist. "The woman is going to have to express all her feelings, the good and the bad. The potions will not be effective if you rush this." Finishing a third glass, I set my champagne glass on an empty table and turn to leave.

"Severus, where-" He reaches out for my shoulder, but I wave him off.

"Back to Hogwarts," I growl back at him. Between Pius' wife throwing herself at me, Narcissa's threat, and fact that I only have an hour or so to complete my "marital duties", my evening has gone from unfortunate to plain miserable. "It is best I take my leave," is the only explanation I have as I rush towards the exit.

Lucius starts to follow me through the crowd saying, "Might I suggest that you find the loo and-" I don't catch the rest of his comment as I burst through his ballroom doors and call to the house elves for my cloak. The last thing I need is to end up in an unattended, enclosed space with that black widow. Not even bothering to put my cloak on, I apparate as soon as I cross the outer gate.

Landing outside Hogwarts, breath deeply and hope a second crack of Apparition doesn't follow me. After running out of the Manor like a madman, I take a minute to catch my breath. The alcohol makes me sway on the spot, so I stomp back to the school in haste. Walking through the corridors, I almost hope there is a student out of bed for me punish.

* * *

If these dungeons were really my home, I would make sure there was some sound other than dead silence. Even the clock's tick tock isn't comforting. Everytime I look at it, I just think about my mother's magical clock and wonder what mine would say if it were sitting on the mantle.

He told me Saturday would be the day. He didn't say at ten, but what other time could he have meant? And why didn't he tell me he wouldn't be here at all today?

When he left earlier in the evening, I wasn't too worried. Although he usually spends his Saturday's away from Hogwarts, he is usually only gone for a few hours in the early part of the afternoon. He is always back by dinnertime and never has he been out this late before. Well, at least not since we got married.

When Harry was gone last year, I remember the worry I felt every morning I woke up. The knots in my stomach, the shake in my hands, and the tension in my shoulders every time I opened the Daily Prophet. I worried constantly about his safety even though mine was no better here at the school.

The Carrow's were relentless in their terrorizing of the school. I would worry that they would discover the relationship Harry and I once had and find a way to use me to lure him into an ambush here at the school. How they never found out is still a mystery, but I was afraid everyday.

But waiting for Snape to return, doesn't feel like the same kind of worry. I imagine how I would feel if he never walked through those doors again, but no emotions comes. There is no dread, no sadness, no fear. It is just an empty thought. If I don't love or care or even really trust him, what should I feel at the possibility?

The answer doesn't come quick enough as I hear the lock on the door click and feel the wards drop. I look at the clock and see he is nearly thirty minutes late as the door opens. He slides in and hangs the cloak on his arm over the rack.

Our eyes meet and, for a second, he looks startled to see me waiting on the couch. I thought about waiting in his room, but it didn't seem right after the argument we had. As he steps further into the room, the light from the fire reveals his attire- elegant dress robes, shiny shoes, a high white collar, probably to hide the scar of his snake bite. He looks nice. Too nice.

"Miss Weasley," he greets unemotionally. His hand remains on the coat rack as if to steady himself. He is out of breath and his normally smooth hair is slightly ruffled as if he was in a rush to get here. The hairs on my neck prickle.

He moves past me into his usual chair and begins to unlace his shoes. I can smell the mix of alcohol and some other sweet scent, like incense or potpourri. His eyes are focused on his task, but I can tell he must be a little drunk by the way he fumbles with his shoestrings.

"Where were you?" The words slip out in a quiet tone. I'm not sure I really want an answer, or if he will even answer, but the question can't be stopped.

My words hang in the air as he continues to work on his shoes. Gruffly, he replies, "Out."

"Must have been a great party." I'm not sure where this boldness is coming from or how much I am going to regret opening my mouth, but very slowly, he gets to his feet.

Ignoring my question, walks to my seat on the couch and holds his hand out to me. "We have little more than an hour. I would rather just get this over with."

Dumbly, I just stare at his hand. As I reach up to take it, I look up at him towering over me. Like the stain of red ink on parchment, the smudged crimson lipstick on his collar taunts me ruthlessly. My eyes widen and I yank my hand back like I have just touched fire. He frowns in slight confusion, but I look away to hide the tears gathering in my eyes.

The lipstick, the smell of his robes, the alcohol- he was with a woman! No, not just any woman, a woman he was obviously touching very intimately. A mistress! He must have had to leave her to come back and get me pregnant. It is disgusting, it is sick. Fuck, it is just plain wrong!

A clear image of his note comes swirling back to me instantly. _Our fate is sealed_? Yeah, the fate that I will end up barefoot and pregnant while he lives free and easy! He doesn't care if he has to knock me up, his life with another woman is the one he is devoted to. That must be what he meant. It is she who he cares about, not me. He must have been trying to tell me that he won't care whether or not I get pregnant because nothing will change between us.

All at once, I feel like someone has punched me in stomach and sucked the breath out of me. My vision is blurry from tears, dizziness and the sudden urge to vomit. It is all I can do to swallow hard and force the bile back to my stomach. His hand remains outstretched as he is trying to figure out why I didn't take it.

Quickly, I stand up and push his hand away. "Yes, let's get this over with," I snap over my shoulder as I head to his room. The rest of the dungeons are dimly lit, giving me time to recompose myself. My only hope is that he does this quickly or I might be sick all over his bed.

* * *

As per usual, I shut the door to the bathroom and start the shower before going to the sink for a minute. I am burning up in these dress robes.

The cold water I splash on my face brings forth relief and I start to think maybe I had one too many glasses of champagne tonight. Struggling to get my shoes off was difficult enough in my inebriated state, but with her watching, I probably looked like a drunk slob. So much for not becoming my father.

When I offered my hand to help her off the couch, she gave me the most disgusted look I have ever seen. The judgement in her eyes screamed volumes as she pushed my hand aside and headed for my room. She looked miserable as she waited for me in her usual spot, but I suppose it would be stupid to think she figured out my hidden message. I can only assume she was distraught over the thought that she might get pregnant tonight.

I drank my potions and we did our duty as quick as any other night, though I could have sworn I heard her stifling her sobs in the dark. If I had been a little more sober, it would have been a distraction. Instead, I just ignored it and held my breath in the hope that she couldn't smell it too much. Looking back, I probably should have just brushed my teeth for good measure.

Resting my hands on either side of the sink, I turn the water off and stare back at my reflection in confusion. At the Malfoy's mansion is a girl who tried to seduce me that I have no desire to sleep with. Down the hall is a girl I am forced to sleep with but who doesn't even trust me. In what fucked up world did all this become my reality?

I run my hand through my hair and massage a knot on the back of my neck. As I turn my head to the side, I can see my high white collar smeared with the foul mark of Daphne. Disgusted, I hastily pull my shirt off and toss it into the corner.

I swear to Salazar Slytherin, if the elves don't get that stain out, I will burn my entire set of dress robes to wipe out the memory of her.


	24. Chapter 24

Sunday morning brings nothing but a hangover and a bad mood. I stumble over to my bathroom and wonder why I didn't take it last night. My memory is a little foggy, but I do find solace in the fact that I didn't make a complete and utter fool out of myself.

Determined to keep my distance from my wife, I stow away into my private lab. There isn't really anything I need to brew, but plenty I can tinker with to keep my mind occupied. Grading papers would just irritate me even more.

It is about mid morning when my wards alert me to someone stepping through the Floo. Figuring it is Minerva, I place a stasis charm on my experiment and head into the living room. I have to blink several times to make sure I am not imagining Narcissa Malfoy sitting on the couch patiently waiting for me.

"Narcissa," I greet. She rises in one smooth motion.

"Forgive me for not owling first," she says in a tone that is anything but apologetic. "Since you don't feel the need to ask permission to intrude in my life, I felt you deserved the same courtesy."

My stomach turns violently. Something evil glints behind those normally reserved doe eyes; a vicious lion waiting to strike at the most opportune moment. I can only assume she is still pissed about my comment from last night, so I cautiously take a step back and adopt a silky tone to smooth her ruffled feathers..

"It is not a problem," I lie. "Would you care for some tea?"

"What a lovely idea, Severus," she smiles with a sickly sweetness. "Come love, I'll get it started."

Like a weird dream, I follow Narcissa to _my_ kitchen and watch _her_ make _me_ tea. Unsure if helping will send her over the edge, I take a seat at the table. Silently, I ward the door and cast a silencing charm because the last thing I need is my naive wife getting in the middle of whatever is about to come.

Narcissa moves around the kitchen expertly. She has been in my kitchen several times, but I had no idea she actually memorized where everything was. Gliding back and forth between the cabinets, she moves in one fluid motion like a ribbon blowing in the wind.

She finally finishes the pot and sits at the table delicately as she pours us each a cup. Even in my home, she is a perfect hostess, pouring cream and sugar exactly how I like it. However, this domestic scene is making me more uneasy with each passing minute.

"Did you enjoy the party last night?"

"It was lovely, Narcissa," I reply politely.

"Splendid," she smiles from behind her teacup. "I saw you leave after your dance with Daphne." I say nothing and wait with a blank face. "Is she the reason you left?"

"One of the many. I had things I had to tend to here at the school," I shrug.

"But not before you spoke with Lucius," she states unemotionally.

"I suppose that is right."

"It is," she confirms. Her tone is cordial, but sending a shiver down my back as I shift uncomfortably.

"Even with my hasty exit, it would have been rude to leave without a proper goodbye and my sincere thanks for the invitation," I explain.

"Oh, I see," she smiles but there is no mirth in her expression. "One last chance to go over the details of your plan, right?"

"Pardon?" I set my face into a confused, but innocent expression and lean back in my chair trying to look casual.

"Answer me this; did Lucius blackmail you into doing his dirty work or do you just follow him blindly? I'd also like to know why, after so many years of involvement with my family, did you ever get the idea that I was the weaker Malfoy?"

My wand is at my side, so I move my hand along the fold of my robe at an angle out of her field of vision. Before I can wrap my hand around the handle, it leaps from my pocket and lands in her soft palm.

"Tsk, tsk," she clicks her tongue in disapproval. She twirls my wand playfully in her fingers like a cat toying with a mouse. "Avoiding my questions will only further my suspicion of your involvement in this."

Things have gone from bad to worse and I know there is no way I am going to be able to bluff my way out of it. She knows what we did. Well, she knows something, I just have no idea how much she knows. But that still doesn't explain what it is she wants from me, so I risk her wrath by being blunt.

"Narcissa, why don't you stop beating around the bush and say what you came here to say?" I ask. Her eyes lose all their calm essence as they flash in rage. I thought she wanted an apology or to chastise me for my involvement, but now I think she is actually going to kill me.

"I told you to stay out of my marriage," she hisses in a dangerous tone, tightening her grip on my wand and leaving me no way of summoning it back.

"What are you accusing me of?" I ask defiantly. She shakes her head in disappointment and her voice shakes with emotion.

"I am not an idiot. Lucius drugged me just before I danced with you. At first I didn't realize it until I was drugged a second time after the party. Don't even deny that it wasn't your hand that brewed it. No one else could have made something so potent and yet so subtle. You promised me weeks ago that you weren't involved. How can I ever trust you again, old friend?"

Her accusations come with the worst guilt I have ever felt in my life. Even though her voice is threatening me, I can see she doesn't want to hurt me.

"You can't," I confess. "My loyalty has always been to Lucius first and you as a close second."

"That's what I thought," she says quietly, a note of hurt in her voice. She lifts her eyes to meet mine confidently and asks, "What kind of potion is it?"

I hesitate. She knows that if I reveal the truth, I will have put my friendship to her above the loyalty I have to Lucius. However, if I don't answer, she is likely to hex my bullocks off without a second thought or an ounce of remorse. I decide the consequence of honesty is the lesser of two evils.

"It is a potions designed to open your mind to ideas," I explain. "It doesn't release inhibitions completely, but it allows you to be more willing to accept suggestions even if you have prior negative feelings. The potion was designed specifically to open your mind just enough to allow him to have one honest conversation without fear of rejection."

The gamble doesn't pay off as she sends my chair flying back against the stone wall. My head knocks against the stone wall with a loud crack and my vision blacks out for a moment. Blinking away the stars, I see her rise with my own wand in hand and point it at my heart.

"If I thought there was a heart under that frock, I would rip it out with my bare hands," she threatens. Even through the pain, I can see the tears welling up in her eyes.

She rips through the wards on the kitchen door with a vengeance and throws my wand on the table as she magically opens it. Walking right up to me, she reaches down and pulls my chin up so my eyes meet hers. All pain in her eyes is now masked by the coldest fury I've ever seen.

"If you ever come to the Manor again, I will personally see to it that bits of your person are scattered across every country in the world." Her icy tone sends a shiver through me.

I can feel the air around her crinkle with electricity as she releases my face and storms out of the room. There is the familiar sound of her heels clicking on the stone floor and her crossing the hearth before a silence fills the room. Feeling the back of my head, I discover the blood oozing out of a tender spot.

Whatever happened after I left must have been really bad. If my head wasn't bloody and pounding, I would march straight over and give Lucius a hex he so rightfully deserves. But first, I need to heal myself and fix this concussion.

Twenty years of my life in service to the Dark Lord, but nothing has ever scared me more than the wrath of Narcissa Malfoy only seconds away from killing me with my own wand.

* * *

"LUCIUS ABRAXAS MALFOY!" My rage is apparent as I step out of the green flames and glance his study dangerously. He sits at his desk writing something, and glances up with a look of annoyance.

"No need to shout, I am right here," he answers with bored disinterest.

Demanding his attention, I wave my wand in a nasty Reducto spell, sending splinters and papers flying in all direction as Lucius is knocked from his seat. His wand appears out of nowhere and sends a spell my direction, which I dodge as I take cover behind a pillar.

"What the fuck, Severus?" He thunders back. "Was that really necessary?"

"As necessary as this," I mumble to myself, briefly stepping out to send another assault his way.

From the safety of my pillar, I hear him grunt as the curse is deflected with to a nearby bookcase. He sends back another spell that shatters the pillar into nothing more than rubble. With my protective barrier gone, I put up a shield and start walking toward him.

"Have you lost your damned mind?" He sends curses at me, but I deflect them left and right. "You crazy bastard, I don't come into your dungeons threatening you."

"No," I shout back, "But your wife does!" Lucius stops abruptly.

"Narcissa?" he asks stupidly. His wand drops to his side with a dumbfound expression, giving me the opening to disarm him and throw him against the wall with invisible restraints.

"Yes, you idiot," I huff back, catching my breath. "I had a lovely chat with Narcissa this afternoon where she made me tea and then tried to kill me! Threatened my fucking life, Lucius! So, I'll ask you this only one time; what the fuck happened last night?"

Lucius struggles helplessly, but then stops and lets his head drop to his chest as he realizes he isn't going anywhere. He sighs deeply and shakes his head in denial. "Nothing. Nothing bad-"

"Think, Lucius, think," I hiss, pressing my wand into his neck. "She knew she was drugged, damn it! I specifically told you to talk to her before trying the potion and you completely disregarded my advice."

"But everything went as planned," he argues. "The potion did exactly what is was supposed to do. She accepted my affections just like we planned."

"No, no, you aren't blaming this on me," I tell him harshly. "That was not the plan. You were supposed to rekindle your romance with the love of your life."

"And rekindle we did," Lucius says in exasperation. Then he turns his head slightly and add in a mumbled tone, "Twice."

I roll my eyes at his admission. "You disgusting piece of filth," I snarl, turning away from him. "Do you realize you humiliated your own wife? You drugged her and then bedded her like a common whore! I can only imagine what ran through her mind when she woke up in your bed this morning."

"It's not like that," Lucius insists. "She wanted to-"

"Shut up, Lucius," I snap. Thankfully he does, but I can see his icy grey eyes flashing in frustration. Straightening my shoulders, I place my hands behind my back and start pacing the way I do when I lecture my classes.

"Okay, Lucius, you royally fucked up, and now," I point to him, "you are going to fix this. You will talk to your wife. You will confess what you did. You will admit your fault in this." He tries to interrupt, but I wave him off with a Vocal Paralysis spell. With no more sound coming out, he resorts to a vengeful glare.

"You will also bare your soul to that woman and stop covering your arse like the Slytherin you have always been. _And_ ," I emphasis my point with a thrust of my wand to his chest, "if your wife comes after me, I will come after you. Next time, I will not give fair warning. If you manage to fuck this up even more so, not only will I help your wife in whatever revenge she is plotting, I will also personally ensure the Malfoy name is forever disgraced in our community. Do I make myself clear?"

He tries to speak again, but when no sound comes out, he scowls and nods curtly. Convinced I made my point, I step towards the fireplace and throw the Floo powder in. Before I step In, I turn back around and leave him with one last thought.

"For once in your life, be the honorable man I know you to be."

His mouth moves rapidly, probably yelling obscenities and curses, but I step into the flames with smirk on my face. The last thing I see before landing in my own dungeon, is the the most satisfying image of the wandless, silent aristocrat hanging his head in remorse.

* * *

Since the window in my room is only a charmed image, the rays of sunshine aren't warm as they hit my face so early in the morning. There is no heat radiating from the pane of glass and no sounds that you would expect to hear- birds chirping, wind blowing. I pull the blankets up over my head and curse it.

Saturday is still fresh in my mind. The last two days have been nothing but miserable. I don't know whether to feel stupid or hurt or humiliated. The whole thing seems ridiculously unbelievable.

Snape keeping a mistress? Who on earth would want someone like that? And I'm not talking about the way he looks. No, I mean who would want someone so mean, so cruel, so callous?

And who is she? Why didn't he marry her before his name went into the lottery? It has to mean that this affair is new. And she knows he married. Worse than that, she must be married as well.

What kind of woman is this?

Huffing in frustration, I throw back the blanket. This is absurd. There is no way this can be true. Snape maybe a lot of things, but a cheater? Is he really capable of something like that?

I can't even give a straight answer. He was a Death Eater. He had to do something really evil to be included in Voldemort's inner circle. Dumbledore vouched for him after Voldemort fell the first time, but I have no idea what the charges were to begin with. Even as a spy, we all know he was expected to blend in with the rest of the Death Eaters by passing information, but that doesn't mean he didn't do other things to prove his loyalty. The reality is that I don't know him well enough to answer the questions.

Truthfully, I need Hermione to talk to. She is the voice of reason and always gives me good advice, but we haven't seen each other since I snapped at her over breakfast. In my head, I weigh my anger at Hermione against my need to talk to her only to find my rage has shifted from her to Snape. My only choice is to go find her.

The tempus charm tells me I have missed my morning classes, but it is only double Herbology so I don't really care. I get dressed and head towards the Great Hall in hopes of catching Hermione before the afternoon classes start. All three of my friends sit in their usual places. She immediately spots me and stands up, bidding the guys goodbye before me motioning me to follow her.

We walk just outside the Great Hall and down a deserted corridor. "Ginny, I-"

"Forget it," I cut her off. "I don't want to talk about that, but I do need to talk to you about something else."

Her apology immediately becomes concern as her brows furrow and she bites her lip. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Things were getting better, but now it is all messed up. We had dinner together all last week, and it was actually kind of nice. I started trusting him. Then last week I mention to him that I wanted to do our duties on my least fertile days. He totally refused and said something like, 'It doesn't matter, our fate is sealed no matter what we do'. I don't even know what that means. It's like he doesn't even care how this will affect me."

She tries to speak, but I continue on as my emotions start rising up. "And then Saturday, he came home really late. Mind you this was after he decided that we would continue to do our duty that day, even though I told him it would be one of my most fertile days this week. He was on a date, Hermione! With some other woman. His fucking mistress!" The last words slip out in an unnatural shriek causing Hermione to look around and check if anyone is around to hear.

Dropping my voice back down to a whisper, I continue, "He's cheating on me, Hermione. He was dressed up and had been drinking. And he smelt like her, like a girly smell. They were together before he had to come back here to me. I just feel so dumb and embarrassed and infuriated..."

"Hold on," Hermione holds her hands up to stop me. "I'm sure there is a perfectly logical explanation-"

"Her lipstick was on his collar," I huff. Hermione's mouth gapes open as her words fall away. She promptly bites her lip in deep thought.

"I can't," she starts, then shakes her head. "I just don't believe that. There… I just can't believe it. Not Snape."

"Yes, Snape," I spit in disgust. "McGonagall didn't cast a fidelity charm at the ceremony, so what is there stopping him? Obviously, he doesn't care." I can feel the hot tears of shame burn at the corner of my eyes as my voice cracks at the last sentence, but I will myself to keep them from falling. Hermione looks like she has just lost all faith in humanity.

"Gin, I'm so, so sorry," she whispers sadly. "I just don't know what to say. I really thought things would get better for the two of you."

"Yeah, well, so did I," I shrug, struggling to regain my composure. "It doesn't matter anymore, It's not like I can do anything."

"Yes, you can," she grips my shoulders and gives me a light shake. "You need to confront him about it. This isn't okay and you need to tell him that his behavior is unacceptable."

"He'll never listen to me. He doesn't listen now," I scowl. "He'll just brush me off or tell me I am being childish. Besides, what does it matter? This isn't a real marriage. He made that clear from the beginning. We are not husband and wife; we are teacher and student, adult and child, black and white. There is nothing, nor will there ever be anything more than that."

"You have to try to talk to him," she insists desperately. "You have to do something!"

"I'm done, Hermione," I wiggle out of her grasp. "Why should I try when he won't? Why should I sacrifice when he doesn't? Why should I change who I am when he isn't willing to do the same?"

For once in her life, Hermione Granger has nothing to say. My defeat is mirrored on her face as her shoulders sag.

It occurs to me that I mean what I said. I am done. Snape has proved his selfishness once and for all. I can never trust him again and any hope of making this work is gone for good. We are just too different. This is never going to work and the sooner I accept it, the sooner I can figure out what to do next. So, I turn to run.

Like deja vu, I round the corner back towards the dungeons and run right into Harry. He puts his hands up defensively, but I just turn my head and continue on my way. All the tears I was holding inside, finally break their hold as I remember the last time I ran into Harry outside the library. A sob catches in my throat and I hear him call my name, but I keep my brisk pace.

From behind me, he continues to follow and tries to get my attention, but I break into a sprint. I want to pull my wand and threaten him, but then he'll see me. Besides, no hex comes to mind, so I keep my focus on getting to the dungeons.

I release the wards as I approach, but Harry doesn't stop his speed. The threshold lets me pass and I slam the door behind me, but Harry slams into it with a loud bang. From the other side of the door, I hear him cry out in pain and then curse. He beats on the door and continues to call my name.

"Ginny!" Even through the thick wood, I can hear his concern. "Ginny, come on. Open up. I know you don't want to see me, but I need to know you are okay. I love you, Ginny. Please. Just tell me you are okay and I'll go away. I promise."

"I'm fine," I yell back. "Now, go away."

Leaning my forehead against the door, my tears roll down my nose as I sob uncontrollably. Then, so faintly I almost miss it, he speaks one last time.

"I still love you, Gin. I always will."


	25. Chapter 25

Throwing open the door, I come face to face with him- Harry Fucking Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The One Who Failed Me. But instead of my normal rage, I feel nothing but utter relief.

Those magnificent green orbs stare into my soul as I begin to wonder why I was even angry in the first place. Harry made one mistake and has been trying to make it up to me ever since, but I continue to hold it against him. But Snape, oh that snake, he has belittled and berated me since day one, but I have yet to hold him accountable. How can I possibly think what Harry did was worse than anything Snape has ever done to me?

Like a Lumos spell cast in a dark room, the light suddenly makes everything clear. My marriage is nothing more than the Ministry assigning me to a prison cell named Snape. But even in Azkaban prisoners get small joys in life- fresh air every so often, a book or two to read, the occasional visitor. Harry is my small joy and I must revel in him.

I thrust myself into his arms and reach up to grab the back of his head. Pulling him close, I reach up from my toes and let my mouth connect with into a searing kiss. It is a kiss I have missed. A surge of passion ripples through me as I push my body into his.

He pulls away gasping. "Ginny, what are you doing?" I drag him over the threshold and continue to pepper him with kisses on his mouth, neck and chin. I don't know what has gotten into me, but the only thought on my mind is how I need more of him.

"I'm kissing you," I breath between partings. He struggles, but I have already shut the door and pushed him up against it.

"We can't do this," he says fearfully looking around the room. I know he is looking for Snape, but my husband is busy teaching for the afternoon.

"Yes we can," I simply say pulling him back in. "I want you. Now."

His resistance is overpowered by my hands pulling his robes apart hastily. I am like a woman possessed and refusal is only feeding my fire.

"This is wrong," he protests. He manages to grab my shoulders and hold me at arm's length.

"No, what's wrong is my husband cheating on me," I yell. His jaw drops at the admission, but I ignore him and continue on. "I have been miserable since the day I married him and he has done nothing to make it better. We don't love each other. Dammit, we don't even like each other. Snape has someone else who makes him happy, so why shouldn't I? Why does he get to be happy and I don't?"

I wait for him to process it, but he is somewhere between confusion and disbelief. When no answer comes from him, I whisper, "I want to be happy again. I want to be happy with is someone I love."

"Ginny, I don't want to be some kind of revenge scheme," he pleads. "I love you and I want you, but this isn't how it is supposed to be."

"I love you and I want you too," I breath against his ear. "This isn't revenge, it's just karma. You want to pay for your mistakes? Then give me pleasure. Make me forget what you did. Show me how much you love me. Make me happy again."

Pulling him closer to me in another passionate wave of kisses, I thrust my hands down his pants and wrap my hand around the reluctant erection make my point, I begin to stroking and squeezing his member. His moan gives me the permission I need to continue.

Finally giving into reason, his hands reach up and pull my robes off as well. Our hands crash into each other, furiously unbuttoning and unzipping clothing. Somehow, I manage to drag him down the hall to my room and push him onto my bed.

He falls back, pulling me on top of him. His school shirt is open and the tie hangs off his broad shoulders. I pull them off and toss them cross the room. His belt and pants are undone, so I pull them off in one quick swipe. He stares up as I rip the buttons on my own shirt to expose my chest and wiggle out of my skirt.

There is fire in my belly and heat in my face. The desperate need to feel his skin on mine forces me to fall on top of him with my face buried in his chest. His smell is intoxicating. It is the smell of Quidditch, of soap, pure essence of Harry.

Rolling me onto my back, he positions himself over me and strokes my breast. Pulling the strap of my bra down, he reveals one single nipple. One of his hands is gently caressing the other breast as he moves his mouth over my nipple. I arch my back and force it deep into his suckling mouth. My hands run through his tousled hair and caress his scalp.

Our frantic pace slows from frenzied and desperate to an intense burn. As his ministrations continue on my chest, I begin to come back into my right mind. He is right, this is wrong. I am a married woman. Am I really the type of person to cheat on my husband, a man I don't even particularly like? If I never stopped loving Harry and Snape never loved me to begin with, then is it really cheating?

My answer comes as his hand leaves my breast and finds its way into my knickers. I hold my breath as he brushes my clit to rub back and forth across my lower half. My hips involuntarily rise to meet his hand. I guess the movement gives him a direction because he becomes focused on the sensitive spot between my folds.

I don't care if it is wrong! My body is demanding his touch. The weight of his body against me is magnificent. His hands running up and down my body are sending me closer and closer to the edge. Who care if it is cheating? I just want to keep going until I fall over.

But the end doesn't come. His hand leaves me to pull my knickers down. My frustration is apparent as I growl at him to continue. He reaches back down and continues to stroke as I unclasp my bra and toss it into the pile of discarded clothes. It is the first time he is seeing me fully naked, but I am not embarrassed. His fingers keep my mind occupied with other thoughts.

Like a wild hippogriff, I buck my hips underneath him in an effort to climax. I know how to make myself orgasm, but he clearly does not. His fingers are strange and unsure, so I reach down and place my hand on top of his.

"Like this," I breath, guiding his hands in a circular motion. "Right there." He follows my lead and I can finally start to feel the tide rise. As he starts understanding what I need, I feel him slip a finger inside me. Merlin, what a feeling!

As inexperienced as he is, he uses my moans to continue to build up the pressure. Through my foggy vision, I glance down to look at him. Harry's jaw is set in determination and his focus is completely on where his hands are. I should feel conscientious about displaying so much of myself to him, but there is no room for it now. Instead, I close my eyes and let the tingling take over as an orgasm crashes over me.

Somehow he figured out how to ride out my climax because his hands suddenly slow their rhythm as I cry out his name. The feeling of his finger inside me as I pulsate over and over is so new, so wonderful, I cannot coherently describe it. I can feel the wetness between my legs as he pulls his hands away gently and makes his way up my body, gently massaging my quivering form.

We are both out of breath, but start snogging relentlessly anyway. His hand strokes my cheek and I can smell myself on his fingers. The warmth of his body pressed into mine makes me shudder in happiness, but it is not enough. The desire to have him inside me brings a new rush of wetness between my thighs. My hand slides between us and grabs his hardened cock. An audible groan escapes him.

"Do it," I hiss tugging him gently towards my entrance. He has a questioning look in his eyes, but I say fiercely, "Do it now!" I need more from him. I need to feel him inside me. I want to experience what it's like to make love. I need to experience what it's like to make love.

There is no more hesitation as he follows my hand to the sloppy place between my legs and plunges into me with a moan. The fullness I have experienced so many times with Snape is nothing compared to the completeness I feel with Harry inside me. There is pleasure and relief instead of tension and pain. I gasp back as I feel him pull back. His next thrust is met as I push my hips to meet his. He is deeper inside me this time, but I don't feel pain, only pure ecstasy.

He continues to thrust back and forth in a slow rhythm, sending ripples of a new climax building steadily. We move against each other and I wonder why we didn't do this sooner. There is none of the anxiety I have felt from having sex with Snape. Instead of counting the minutes until it is over, I am hoping it never ends. How have I gone so long just fucking without knowing it could be so good?

Harry's face is flush and his jaw slack as he moans over me. Each thrust he makes is so fluid, so calculated, and yet so enthralling. His climax is rapidly approaching, but I find myself frustrated as I struggle with my own. It is like a wave that doesn't fall upon itself. I can feel it build up and then just sinks back into itself.

Finally, I decide I can't take it anymore. I push him off forcefully and he looks taken aback as his rhythm is interrupted. Ignoring his confusion, I just grab his shoulders to push him back onto his heels against the footboard of my bed. Climbing on over his lap, he seems to get the idea of what I want as I ease down on his member. His arms come around to wrap me up in love- one hand on my lower back and the other at the base of my neck.

The penetration is better than before. He snaps his hips off the bed, catching my clit against his shaft as I grind against him. I can feel that wave build again. This time the pressure continues instead of collapsing into itself. It doesn't take long for me to establish a rhythm as I rock towards my happy ending. I am in control and I love it.

We grunt and moan against each other, each thrust forcing me towards the happy end. My back is cold with my own sweat and my hands are slippery with his. Our breathing is heavy and hot. His head rests against my chest, creating a moist pocket of heat between us. My cheek brushes against his damp hair every time I sink my weight back down on him.

The wave finally crashes over me. My body shudders at the force and I cry out at the top of my lungs. His strong arms keep me from falling over as I tense and release involuntarily. Expletives fly out of my mouth incoherently. He continues to thrust and grunt as my mind reels from the pleasure.

It is only another minute before I hear him cry out my own name.

"Ginny! Fuck, Ginny!" He repeats over and over as his manhood pumps furiously. His climax forces his body to tense, so this time, I steady him. We hold each other upright, reveling in the ecstasy of the moment. As we gasp for breath, I pull back slightly to look at his face. I want to see his expression.

His green eyes are heavy with emotion as sweat drips down his crimson cheeks and around a slightly parted mouth. I can feel his love. I know for sure that we were meant to enjoy this moment. I love him. I never want to let him go.

As I open my mouth to tell him, my heart stops as my eye catches a dark figure lurking in the doorway. Fear overwhelms me the instant Snape's obsidian eyes lock onto mine.

* * *

There are no words to describe the emotions running through my mind. Using every piece of Occlumency training I have, I push them all away. Emotions will only make me weak in this instance. This needs to be handled with logic.

There she sits. Naked. In his lap. Potter. Of Course. Who else would she be with?

My eyes glance around the room. Clothes are sitting in a messy pile near the corner. Her knickers right on top along with a bra and skirt. I look around to see the boy's underpants just at the edge of her bed. The only thing covering their nakedness is their grip on each other, the sheets wildly strewn around them.

I had every intention of keeping my afternoon classes, but the explosion from a second year's cauldron left a nasty burn on my cheek and the hand that shielded my face. I contemplated going to Poppy, but I knew the rest of the class would be congregating there to treat their injuries as well. Besides, it was a minor injury, something I could handle myself.

There should have been some alarm in my head going off as I entered my private quarters and saw the school bags by the front door or the robe on the floor by the hallway. The pain of my hand and face directed my thoughts to my private stores kept in my bedroom. My relief was instantaneous as I rubbed a special salve I had created several years ago. The skin healed without even a hint of a scar.

It was only when I nearly tripped over the robe outside my door, that my mind began to analyze my surroundings. Two school bags? A robe left on the ground? The rest of my anger at the stupid second year was instantly redirected at the only person that could be here. My wife.

Her friends have never visited her here. Why would they come now? And I remember specifically telling her to hang her cloak by the door. Was this an act of defiance to show her little friends that she is rebelling? I decided the issue needed to be addressed immediately.

I turn to walk down the hall, but the guttural sounds of carnal pleasure echo off the stone walls stops me in my tracks. My stomach drops as a cry bounces through the chambers, an audible scream of my wife's first name coupled with obscenities. Something draws me to her room.

I stride silently down the hall listening to the heavy breathing and moans, knowing that had I been five minutes later, I would never have come upon this nightmare. The door is wide open with Potter holding my wife on his lap. Their afterglow radiating off of them as they stare into each other's eyes, completely unaware their moment is being shared with me.

As if hexed into stillness, I stand there as if time has completely stopped, freezing this scene in my memory for the rest of my life. Then something breaks and her lust filled eyes snap in my direction. The rich flush from her cheeks disappears into sickly paleness and an audible gasp escapes her. Potter follows her eyes to me and pulls her closer as if to shield her body from me.

Potter opens his mouth, but no words come out. My eyes go from my wife to Potter and back to her again, trying to come up with something, anything to say. The words don't come as my jaw locks defiantly and my mouth presses into a thin line. I might as well wait for one of them to give me some sort of explanation.

We all stare back and forth for what seems to be an eternity. Finally, there is a shift as Potter grabs the sheet with his free hand and tries to cover their bodies. The girl shifts off of him, momentarily flashing her bare front to me as she pulls the blanket around her. I roll my eyes and flick my wand towards the pile of clothes with a silent spell.

Potter's items float towards the bed and land next to him. He gives me a hesitant look as if he expects me to set fire to them before he can reach out to grab them. It isn't a bad idea, but I have seen enough of his disgustingly, pale body to last a lifetime. I do not need him running completely nude through my quarters.

He slides off the bed and pulls his pants on before hastily throwing his shirt over his shoulders. I keep my eyes on the little red-headed devil who is avoiding my eyes by staring at the opposite wall intently. Potter finishes his disheveled look and stands next to the bed awkwardly. He looks like he is deciding if he should run or try to speak to her. I make the decision for him.

"Out!" I bark, stepping out of the doorway. He moves quicker than I expected and disappears without a second look back. I hear his bare feet pad across the chambers accompanied by the telltale rustle of a book bag being picked up as the front door slams to signal his exit. My wife is still staring motionless at the wall holding the blanket over her with white knuckles.

Something wells up inside me, something that feels vaguely like pain. It doesn't make sense. I should feel rage- pure, unadulterated, white hot rage. There shouldn't be any room for hurt or sadness. We aren't in love, we don't even like each other.

But it's there. I feel nauseous. My stomach is twisted and swallowing starts turning into gagging, but I keep a stony face. I don't know if I'm more disgusted over the fact she cheated on me or the fact that it was with Potter. The irony is too tragic, too stupid. Another Potter stole a woman who was rightfully mine.

At last, she finally turns back to face me. There is fear in her eyes, but a defiance on her face. A single tear rolls down her cheek and falls onto the fist clutching the sheets to her chest. My sickness is so overwhelming, I can't even process what she could possibly be crying for.

Her mouth opens like she is going to say something, but quickly closes it again when no sound comes out. Everything is in slow motion as she struggles to form a single sentence. There is so much for her to say, but nothing I want to hear. She looks down in her lap, obviously waiting for me to start yelling. There is so much for me to say, but my jaw is clenched too hard from trying to will away the vomit.

Determined to not make a fool of myself, I sweep out of the room. I barely make it to my own loo before my stomach lets loose. Fucking Potter in my own home. My own home! She has no right to treat me this way. They are children, mere children! Twenty years of this place and never have students been so blatantly disrespectful.

Humiliation and disgust leave my system, infuriation and determination replace it as I move to stand over the sink and stare at my reflection. She will not get away with this. This is entirely unacceptable! Slamming my fist on the porcelain, I make up my mind to set things straight. This ends today. The little chit will never humiliate me like this again. Never.

Quickly splashing icy water on my face and then wiping it with a towel, I stand up tall and set my shoulders square as the plan starts to formulate in my head. There is one place thing that will help, but I need to hurry since it will close in an hour or two. I rush out the doors of my living quarters, only pausing for a moment to grab my cloak off the rack. My footsteps echo dangerously as my boots stomp through the school. Students jump out of my way as I rush down the halls with purpose, but I don't have the time to bark out point deductions for their loitering. My mind is too focused on my mission.

I reach the edge of the grounds and turn without even stopping, letting the crack of apparition startle birds from the trees. My feet hit the ground of a deserted alley and I immediately start walking to my destination. Adjusting my robes from the hurried apparition, I round the corner and glance up at the building without a single bit of doubt in my mind. It is time to make things right.

I don't even notice muggles brushing past me with curious looks or magical folks whispering from behind their hands as I enter the Ministry of Magic.


	26. Chapter 26

"Miss Weasley," Snape calls through the door. "We have matters to discuss. I expect you in the kitchen in two minutes or I will personally come back to escort you myself." He doesn't even wait for my answer before I hear the click of his heels retreating down the hallway.

A groan escapes me as I sit up in bed. Other than him throwing Harry out, I have not seen or heard from him all afternoon. In fact, I didn't even know he left the dungeons until I heard him come back nearly two hours ago.

When he turned his back and left my room earlier, I fled to my bathroom and warded the door. For him to leave without a word was the most terrifying thing he has ever done. With my sheet still wrapped around me, I sank to the floor and listened for nearly an hour for the approach of his footsteps. None came.

I finally drew up my courage to take a shower, but I brought my wand in with me. Part of me expected him to hear the water running and come bursting in with an array of hexes flying out of his mouth, but the other part of me knew he was biding his time to torment me until later. As much as I wanted to spend an hour scrubbing the memory of Harry away, I finished my shower in less than ten minutes and dress in a clean school uniform with equal speed.

Curling up on the plush bathroom rug, I fell into an exhausted but uneasy sleep. Every creak and drip made me flinch and grip my wand tighter. When the sound of the front door slamming reverberated through the floor, I thought he finally left to finish teaching his classes. I left the bathroom and was almost through the door of my room when I heard a drawer open from the desk in the study. Panicked, I eased my door shut and warded it with every spell I could think of.

Anxious, I paced my room, organized my drawers, tried to read, practiced my non verbal magic- anything to take my mind off of what was to come when he would finally seek me out. Now, that he knocks, I wish I had left when I had the chance. I should have just run out or cast a disillusioned spell and snuck out to hide in Hermione's room. But then again, there is no way I am ready to face her or my brother yet.

Knowing his patience is bound to be nonexistent, I straighten my clothes and run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to look somewhat presentable. Once the wards on my door are dropped, I tuck my wand in my sleeve and walk towards the kitchen with stealthy steps. Taking one last deep breath, I push the kitchen door open carefully.

Snape is at the stove preparing tea. He does not flinch upon my entrance, but motions toward my regular seat and says, "Sit!" He speaks in a quiet, but firm tone similar to one used on a dog or horse.

As much as I don't want to sit with him, I have no choice if I want to keep my wand hand free and hidden in the sleeve of my robe unnoticed. When he turns back to reach for sugar, milk, and honey, I move into the seat and shove my hand up my sleeve in my lap. He seems completely oblivious as he floats the tea set to the table lazily.

"Miss Weasley," he addresses me. I glare up at him as he gives a pointed look. "I can assure you that our wands will not be used for this conversation."

Smacking myself internally for thinking he wouldn't notice, I try to keep my face from showing that he caught me. As if to prove a point, he pulls out his ebony wand and places it in the center of the table out of reach before returning to the counter for a plate of biscuits and cakes.

"You must be famished," he continues, placing it between us. I had been so concerned over what was going to happen when we finally spoke, I didn't even notice I had not eaten all day. Still apprehensive, I wait.

He lets a deep sigh out and begins to fix his tea with a slow precision, never once looking up at me. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, I finally break the silence.

"Can we just get this over with?"

He looks almost thoughtful as he glances up from his tea. I swallow hard and try to look defiant and strong. If he thinks he is going to make me cry, he has another thing coming.

"How long have you been sleeping with Potter?" The question hangs in the air ominously. I suppose I should have expected it to be the first thing out of his mouth, but the way he asks is odd. There is no malice or anger in his tone, but I still refuse to answer.

"What does it matter?" I snap back. "I know you are just going to forbid me to see him."

"Forbidding your relationship with Potter would only push you further into his arms," he replies nonchalantly.

"You don't care? I mean, I can keep seeing him?" Snape rolls his eyes and I suddenly feel stupid for asking.

"Of course not," he drawls, "I will not allow such disrespect. Your relationship with Potter ends here and now until the day we are no longer married."

"But you just said-"

"Miss Weasley," he cuts in, "just because I am not going to forbid contact with him or any other male does not mean that you are welcome to sleep with whomever you want. What happened this afternoon was completely unacceptable."

"But you-"

"Your hand," he interrupts again holding his hand out expectantly. I shrink back instinctively. For a second, I think he is going to rap on my knuckles, but then I realize he is trying to make me take a vow. Defiantly, I hold out my left hand, palm up, and smirk. I'll cut off my right hand before I make any oath with him.

Instead of demanding my other hand, he flips my hand over and quickly slips a silver band on my forth finger. I yank my hand away, but it is too late as the metal shrinks to fit my finger. Tugging at the ring, I huff in frustration. It won't come off.

In a panic, I ask, "What the fuck, Snape? What is this?"

"Your ministry approved wedding band," he articulates each syllable. "I did not think it was necessary at the time of our wedding, but recent events have proven otherwise."

My mouth goes dry and my heart races. "A fidelity ring." It comes out more as a statement than a question.

"Think of it as more of a direct line of communication with me," he says holding up his own left hand. A slightly bigger, but matching band gleams on his own finger. "If anyone touches you again, I will know. All I have to do is touch my wand to the metal and I will immediately be taken to your location. As your husband, Wizard Law gives me the authority to deal with the offending person how I see fit, so I suggest you let Potter know his hands must be kept on his own person from now on."

"That's not fair!" I shriek trying again to pull the ring off. "Take it off! Take it off now!" I pull my wand out and try to enlarge or vanish it. Nothing seems to work. Snape sits, watching me with a bored expression.

"It's no use," he says taking another sip of his tea. "The rings will be removed upon divorce or death, whichever comes first."

"I know about her," I blurt out. His cup freezes in mid air as he looks at me with narrowed eyes. Emboldened by his reaction, I continue on. "I know you see her after your night patrols on Sunday and Wednesday nights. If you force us to wear these rings, you can't see her anymore."

His face visibly relaxes and he lets out a sneer. "These rings have no bearing on my activities with the Headmistress."

My stomach lurches and I feel sick. "Professor McGonagall?"

"Do you know any other Headmistress?" Snape asks raising his eyebrows.

"No," I shake my head, "But she's your boss!"

"I'm quite aware of that, thank you," he sneers again, "but the point is that I will continue to see her after my night patrols. These rings are here to ensure _you_ learn to keep your hands to yourself, a lesson that does not pertain to me."

"But that's not fair," I repeat. My ring alerts him if I simply touch someone, but he can continue to sleep with his mistress. Correction, his _Head_ mistress. If I wasn't so upset, I might have actually scoffed at the pun.

"You should have thought about that before you decided to disrespect me and my home," he slams his teacup down and stands. Startled, I shrink back as he looms over the table. "This marriage may be miserable, it may be difficult, and it may be loveless, but mark my words Miss Weasley, it is still a marriage nonetheless. We are bound to one another until death or divorce do we part, so stop being so difficult."

Before I can argue, he snatches up his wand and sweeps out of the room with his usual authoritative manner. Slumping forward in my chair, I hold my hand up and eye the ring on my finger.

Tears slide down my cheeks and land in a puddle on the table as I think about Harry. On some level, I know what we did was wrong, but that doesn't mean I didn't like it. For the first time in months, I felt like things were going to be okay. Harry loves me and now I have to give that up?

This isn't fair. This isn't even right, but what can I do? The Ministry is on his side and there is nothing I can do. Just when I thought life was going to become bearable again, Snape proves me wrong.

* * *

The following morning, I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she brushes up against a little first year during breakfast. My ring burns like fire instantly. Her expression makes it obvious that it was no accident, so I glare back at her in fury. She drops the spoon she is holding and she visibly looks shocked that such a light touch would alert me.

I am tempted to place a hand on someone just so she can experience the burning sensation that radiates from the metal band all the way up through the torso like a slow fire, but I know she will eventually figure out I wasn't lying. In fact, she seemed to admit defeat and I don't feel anything until later that evening.

The burning started as I took inventory of the classroom supplies. At first, I ignore the pain and hope it is her being careless. When the pain hits the second time, I touch my wand to my ring and find myself immediately pulled into the library. Straight ahead is Granger with the girl's palm in her own hand as she inspects the ring.

Rushing forward, I yank her away by the wrist before they even register that I have walked up. Granger's look of pure terror is nothing compared to the astonishment on my wife's face. She turns white and looks at her arm in my hand.

"Yes," I tell both of them. "The ring is charmed to alert me if anyone- male or female touches you. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from this foolish notion that you will be able to break the charm."

Granger nods while the girl looks away in shame, guilt written on both of their faces. I knew she would go to Granger for help. They will eventually come to see that resistance is futile and our rings are here to stay. If Granger is as smart as I think she is, she will convince my wife to stop this foolish defiance.

I drop her wrist and head back to the dungeons until it is time for my night patrol followed by chess with Minerva. Unfortunately, I already know my mess of a marriage will not escape Minerva's notice.

Sometimes I hate how observant Minerva is. It took no less than two seconds for her to spot the ring and raise her eyebrows.

"We aren't talking about it," I say taking my usual seat.

"I didn't say a word otherwise," she responds making her first move.

"You had a look."

"I have many looks," she shrugs waiting on me to make my first move. "Confusion, disdain, elation, curiosity. To which are you referring?"

"Your insatiable curiosity," I clarify. "You want to know if it had anything to do with the cancellation of my classes the other day, why I got them in the first place, and then give me some sage advice but cryptic advice in the style of Albus Dumbledore. I am not in the mood for it tonight, so I'll say it again- we aren't talking about it."

"And I have agreed to respect your privacy as you have requested," she says. "Just because I want to ask the questions, doesn't mean I don't have the self restraint to abstain. Even if I did ask, there would be no guarantee that you would answer anyway. And just so you know, I am aware that you cancelled your classes to obtain your rings even if the reason for doing so is unclear. As for some 'sage advice in the the style of Albus Dumbledore, the only words I have for you is simply to commend you on finally leveling the Quidditch field for her."

"What?" I can't stop from sounding like a complete idiot. "Leveling the field?"

"Yes," she nods with gentle smile. "You have made it clear from day one that you are in control of this situation. Though she may not realize it now, she will eventually understand that a ring to ensure your fidelity to her is a way of expressing your commitment to your marriage."

"I didn't get them to ensure my fidelity, I got them to ensure hers," I point out.

"Hers, yours, it's a two way street," she waves her hand for emphasis. "I am sure the reasons behind your decision were much less complex and probably even less noble, but they still equate to a change being made. You may be trying to force her to be faithful to you, but in doing so, you have also forced yourself to remain faithful to her as well."

"Perhaps she demanded I get the ring because she doesn't trust me," I counter. "How do you know that this is not the result of my indiscretions?"

A hearty laugh escapes her causing my face to burn. "I have known you for thirty years, Severus, and while you have your faults, breaking vows is not one you are known for. For arguments sake, I will pretend what you are saying is true and your wife demanded to keep track of your whereabouts to put her mind at ease. If that were the case, then you have sacrificed your own privacy to obtain her trust. Furthermore, if you were having an affair, then you have just ended it for the sake of your wife. Why would I possibly object to that?"

As much as I hate how observant she is, I hate it more when she figures these things out. But I have to concede, she has a point that I never actually considered. I am not a man who takes his vows lightly, even if they are for a marriage I don't want to be in. In fact, my vows may not have promised my fidelity, but I still made the choice to remain faithful to a woman that hates me. For the second time in my life, I have made a promise to a woman in love with another man.

I reach for my chess piece as Minerva reaches her own out to my own. Instinctively, I snatch my hand back before she can touch me. Perturbed, I open my mouth to chastise her, but her knowing smile forces me to roll my eyes.

"See?" Minerva points out. "As much as you want me to believe you don't care, you continue to prove you do."

"Preventing contact with your hand is hardly proof of anything more than the fact that I don't like being touched by anyone," I shrug. To prove my defiance, I hold my hand back out. "Here. Go ahead. Send Miss Weasley a good long shock."

"Oh, Severus," she sighs. "You always did use sarcasm and a sharp tongue as a defense mechanism. I can see whatever happened between you two hurt you more than you care to let on."

"You are mistaken," I smirk. "I'd like to think my biting wit and snappy comebacks are merely a reflection of the charisma that attracts all sorts of witches to my charming personality."

"You are a terrible," she chides, but smiles anyway. "The point is that you and your wife have a long way to go, but you seem to be taking a step in the right direction."

"Two steps forward, one step back," I mutter under my breath, but she hears.

"But it's still forward," she replies with the classic knowing twinkle in her eye.

Some days I wonder why she finds it so amusing to grate on my nerves.

* * *

He's out late again. It is nearly two in the morning and my stomach is in knots.

Apparently, Harry and his big mouth decided to find Ron immediately after leaving the dungeons to tell his side of the story, which my idiotic brother decided to share with Hermione. Like the bossy little witch she is, Hermione wasted no time in launching into a long drawn out speech about how she told me to talk to Snape about his affair, how sleeping with Harry was wrong on so many levels, and what how disappointed she is in me. After hearing what happened after Harry left, she finally decided she had berated me enough and moved on to the comforting part of our friendship.

I repeated word for word how Snape didn't deny the affair, admitted it was McGonagall, and then made it very clear he wasn't going to stop seeing her. She was shocked again, but still insisted that there had to be some mistake. When I explained how the rings ensured my fidelity to him, she immediately began inspecting it.

Seeing Snape appear in the library nearly scared the life out of me. We both jumped when he yanked my hand out of hers and I thought he might actually kill her. When he left, I tried to touch my wand to my ring later as an experiment, but nothing happened. Hermione thought maybe it only activated when the ring signaled a touch to prevent accidental appearing at random times.

So I waited all day knowing that he would be out with her tonight. I thought about trying to follow, but I am sure they meet in her office or private chambers. Following him would just leave me waiting in the hallway to get caught by Filch. An added detention would just add to solidifying this week as the worst week of my life.

Unfortunately,I have been up for hours waiting for it to signal me and nothing has happened.

As the wards drop and I hear his heavy boots echo down the hall, it hits me. He was serious when he said the ring wouldn't affect his relationship with McGonagall. Knowing the way wizard law works, I can only assume the ring only alerts him because magical marriage means he "owns" me. He can have as many lovers as he wants, but I am to forever remain faithful to him.

Throwing myself back on the bed in defeat, I wonder if it is really possible that he is sleeping with McGonagall. If my ring didn't burn, then is it possible that he isn't having an affair at all? Did I make a mistake?

No, I shake my head. The evidence doesn't lie. Snape is definitely seeing someone. Maybe someone else altogether? It would make more sense if he was seeing another woman and just pretending it was the Headmistress. But McGonagall doesn't really seem like the type to allow someone to use her name to cover something like this up. That would mean it is her.

I always thought of McGonagall as fair and just towards everyone, even though she can be a little frightening at times. It makes me sick to think that she would have a relationship with a married man, especially since he is one of her staff members _and_ he happens to be married to a student in her school.

It is also disturbing to think about the fact that she is old enough to be his grandmother. With his new hero status being flaunted around the wizarding world, I'm sure even he could get someone closer to his own age, maybe even younger.

The two of them just don't seem to fit. To be honest, she is more like the female version of Snape- calculating, demanding, stern. It is ironic that he would fall in love with a woman who is similar to him, but somehow it makes perfect sense as well.

Mentally, I slap myself. Who said anything about love? He isn't capable of love. I don't even think he is capable being loved. Is it just sex? A shiver runs through me as the image of Snape and McGonagall shagging flashes in my mind.

Exhausted and confused, I slide under the covers and mutter a spell to douse the lights.

Whether he is with McGonagall or some other witch, the only thing I know for certain is that I will never be with Harry until this marriage is over. I suppose I could technically carry on an emotional relationship with him and just leave out the physical side, but how am I supposed to forget the amazing moment we shared? His hand, his mouth, his passion. It wasn't perfect, but it was far better than anything I have had with Snape. We connected. It was beautiful.

But there is no point in trying to make Harry and I into something we aren't and can never be. If I keep my relationship with Harry, there will be a part of my heart that will always feel empty. Besides, he will have to be married at some point anyway. His new wife could be wonderful. She could even persuade him to fall in love with her and then what chance would I have?

Fantasizing about a life with Harry, even one without sex, is exactly that- a fantasy. My reality is Snape, uncaring, selfish, cheating Snape. It is a harsh reality, but at least I know what to expect. I guess until I found out he was cheating, I was still living in a fantasy. It was a fantasy in which I believed Snape to be an honorable man, a good man. He never said he was. It was all in my head.

Oddly enough though, nothing really changes. I am exactly where I was when I first saw his name on my letter. It doesn't matter whether or not he takes a mistress, I still have to be in this marriage and I still have to have a child. Either way, we are both stuck until this whole thing ends.

A small voice tries to whisper words of encouragement as my mind becomes hazy with the beginnings of sleep. _Don't give up. Things will get better._

It's all bullshit.

Even through the fog of my mind, a stronger voice overpowers the hopeful part and reminds me over and over there is nothing I can do. Fighting gives him power over me. Surrendering gives him power over me. Neither gets me ahead and neither puts me behind. The only difference is fighting is exhausting and surrendering is demeaning. At this point, they both look equally disgusting and equally appealing. Do I continue to rebel or throw in the towel?

Neither is the lesser of two evils, so I let my mind fall away into the only place I can escape. At least for a few short hours, I don't have to decide.


	27. Chapter 27

The long corridor to my chambers is cool and dim, just the way I like it. With Christmas just around the corner, it seems that the students think the holiday has already started. Two melted cauldrons and one table ruined today because of their carelessness. The rest of the week has been just as long, so I am ready to spend the rest of my evening with a glass of firewhiskey and the latest Potioneer's Quarterly.

Coming upon the door, I feel a familiar presence behind my wards, but not the magical signature I know to be the girl's. My hand has only burned only a few times in the last couple of weeks, but they were all false alarms, probably because she didn't realize how much physical contact she had with people. Since most people rarely come within arms reach of me, I am sure she hasn't had the unpleasant sensation of a burning ring. Then again, she hasn't exactly mentioned it.

But my hand is not burning at the moment. Outside, I stand by the door and wait. My stomach twists into a knot at the thought of her bringing Potter back around. I'd like to think she is smarter than that, but I also thought she wasn't stupid enough to cheat on me to begin with.

Minutes tick by and my mind wanders back to the last few weeks. The Saturday after I caught her and Potter, was even more awkward than before. She did not appreciate my disease detection charm, but then she fell into a resigned silence afterwards. It was almost as if she finally understood that no tears or fearful looks would get her out of what was about to take place.

At first, I was relieved. I thought she finally realized that I absolutely abhorred and certainly did not enjoy our weekly duty. However, the following week, her demeanor began to border on depressing. I have see her nervous, anxious, fearful, and miserable during our encounters more times than I can count, but this new expression is unnerving. At least when she hated or feared me, I could use her negativity to fuel myself to a quicker finish. Now, I have to use my fury at her and Potter, but that is more of an antidote to the quick release potion rather than an enhancer.

Her attitude during the rest of the week has changed as well. I always knew her avoidance of me was out of fear, but now she doesn't even try keep out of my way. Most mornings, she would scurry out of the dungeons like a mouse escaping a cat, but now she moves unfocused and sluggish like a ghost. No expression, dead eyes, nonchalant, and disinterested. Even in the Great Hall, she looks like she is just going through the motions as she eats and chats with her friends.

Even though I didn't forbid her to end her relationship with Potter, I believe this moping has something to do with the ring she wears. But as I stand outside the door with my wand ready to barge in puts me on edge. Would she be depressed enough to decide another escapade with Potter is worth me walking in on again? Have I pushed her so far that she doesn't care about the rules I have laid down? Or is this her way of silently rebelling? Is she making me think she is depressed when really she is plotting revenge?

Deciding I can't wait anymore, I drop the wards and open the heavy wooden door in a single motion and hope my element of surprise will reveal whatever evil lies behind it. However, the flaw in my plan is exposed as my eyes are drawn to the woman on the couch.

"Severus." My name on Narcissa Malfoy's tongue forces my hand to clench my wand in panic, but I don't draw it out. She must have noticed my tensing body and flinch at her greeting because she holds her palms facing towards me in surrender. "My wand is on the mantle, Severus."

The quickest glance to my left does indeed prove her wand closer to me than to herself, but it doesn't make me any less anxious. She draws herself up slowly, elegantly, like a queen rising to greet her subjects. But her normally haughty expression is replaced with a calm, apologetic one.

"Perhaps we should have some tea?" Narcissa nods her head towards the kitchen with an almost pleading expression. But Malfoy's don't beg, so I remain rooted to the floor.

"My dear Narcissa," I draw out her name with venom. "The last time you invited me for a cuppa, I was threatened to stay away from you lest death seek me out in an untimely fashion. Since I am still intent on living to a ripe old age, joining you in the kitchen again would not only be a very unwise gamble with my life, but would practically be turning my wand on myself. If you think I will not duel you and win, you are mistaken."

"Our last conversation did get a little… out of hand," she agrees apologetically. "And you do have every right to not only throw me out of your home, but repay me equally for the cruelty I displayed the last time. And while I am willing to accept your curses and dismissal, I came for the sole purpose to apologize for my actions."

Oh, Narcissa Malfoy. Even as she stands completely drawn up to her full height, a picture of regal superiority, she somehow manages to exude remorse and shame in her posture. Like a soldier knowingly facing the firing squad, she waits for my reaction.

Still unsure if I can trust her, I raise my hand towards the kitchen in an "after you" gesture. With a nod, she sweeps towards the door, leaving her wand on the mantle behind her. I follow at a safe distance and hope her skills with wandless magic are weaker than my wand defenses. She begins the well timed dance of tea making as I cast the usual spells for privacy.

"I was waiting quite a long time for you," she states as she waits for the water to boil. "I thought your last class ended a half hour ago, so I apologize for intruding. When I called through the Floo, I figured you were just ignoring me and that's why I came through."

"Had I been here, I probably would have ignored your call," I admit without emotion. "My last class did end a while ago, I just… got caught up with some things." Even if we were on friendlier terms, I still wouldn't tell how I waited outside with my imagination running wild about who might have actually been waiting on my couch.

"I understand," she gives me a small smile before setting the tea paraphernalia on the table. I watch her make my tea, perfect as always, but I keep standing by the door defensively. "Won't you sit?"

I ignore her question and ask my own. "What are you doing here, Narcissa?"

She lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head as if her next words are the most difficult ones she's ever spoken. "A lot has happened the past few weeks and I realized there has been some miscommunication that has led to some undesirable events. Now that the truth has come out, I feel I owe you an explanation."

"Go on," I say cautiously. Whatever brought this woman through the Floo was obviously either too important or too difficult to explain in an owl. There is a sinking feeling in my stomach as I wonder if something happened to Lucius after our last discussion in his office. Surely he wasn't left too long before a house elf found him.

"After talking with you, I left Lucius and went to France," she explains. "I had every intention of finally filing for divorce and moving on with my life. My anger with myself was misdirected at you and for that I am truly sorry. Now, you had no right to conspire with Lucius to drug me, but to take out my aggression on you, in your own home, that was entirely inappropriate and wrong of me."

She takes a deep breath and glances at me. I give a slight nod in acceptance of her apology, but don't interrupt otherwise.

"I know that Lucius has probably told you all about the struggles of our marriage over the years, so it should come as no surprise that I knew all about his little tarts he kept on the side," she continues in disdain.

"Nothing would get past a clever woman like you," I quip giving her a knowing look.

A small smile escapes her. "I have my ways. You certainly discovered that at the party," she hints subtly. As curious as I am to hear who she learned Occlumency from, I refrain and nod for her to continue.

"You see, Severus, when you warned me of Lucius plan, I was under the impression that Lucius was buttering me up so that he could take on a mistress in our close social circle, like Daphne Thicknesse or Emily Vance."

"No," I deny, breaking my cool composure as the horror of the situation strikes me. "I would never ask you to condone his cheating or request you allow him-"

"I know that," she cuts me off gently. "I mean, I know that know because Lucius explained it to me."

"After the party?" I ask.

"No, last week," she corrects. My breath hitches as she says, "I must say leaving him tied to his office wall for hours on end to be discovered by a house elf the next morning is grounds for him to send a good _Avada_ your way. It goes without saying that you should count your lucky stars that he was more focused on the fact that I left the Manor than what you did to him."

"So on top of an apology, are you also warning me to close my Floo off?"

"If I was still angry with you, I would have just sent Lucius your way after he found me. However," she smirks mischievously, "he has been indisposed of since then and has not been able to find the time to come see you."

"Sweet Circe, Narcissa," I whisper, "Did you-"

"Kill him?" Her innocent expression causes my heart to stop for a moment until she lets out a melodious laugh that immediately relaxes my shoulders. "Good Godfric, no. Though when he finally showed up I nearly did. There was a moment when I was so overwhelmed by my heartbreak that I contemplated just turning my wand on myself to end the agony."

"Heartbreak?" I ask in confusion. Was she talking about her lover?

"There is no one else," she answers my unspoken question. "There never was. I mean, there were men I tried to replace Lucius with, but it was never love. In fact, it was lonelier in someone else's arms than in his."

"But the letter," I stutter. "He showed it to me."

"Do you know what my mother said on my wedding day?" Her question makes me frown at the rapid change of subject, but I shake my head anyway. "She told me, 'Cissy, marriage, even ones based in love, take a lot of work and you must never forget that. Write letters to your husband the same way you write a diary. If you are angry or sad, write about it, but then burn it.' I asked her how that would help and she replied, 'Because those are feelings that you should acknowledge, but not dwell upon. If the letter is a good emotion, like joy or excitement, save it. When the ashes of your burned letters start filling up too much space in your heart, the saved letters will help brush the soot away for a new fire.' I have to say it was the best advice she ever gave me."

"So the letter was for him," I finish for her. Thinking about the letter, I frown and ask, "But it wasn't a 'happy' letter."

"That is correct," she admits. "I never followed my mother's advice. We were happy in the early years, that I was sure she was just trying to prepare me for living in an arranged marriage to a man that I didn't love completely. I'm not sure she ever loved my father the way I love Lucius, so I never wrote until the Dark Lord began calling him away on missions. It was the first time I tried my mother's advice, but the only thing that came out was my desperation to have him back and my fear that he would be killed."

"So, that's what I wrote. Knowing there was no way to reach him while he was away, I wrote letters every time I felt on the verge of a panic attack. I would tell him how much I loved him, how much I missed him, and how much I needed him to come home. As I'm sure you are aware, things between Lucius and I became strained as Draco was born and Lucius was getting deeper and deeper in the inner circle. When the Dark Lord fell, I stopped writing the letters, but things still weren't right in my marriage. I'm not going to lie, I did discreetly seek comfort outside my marriage."

"When I finally realized the only man I wanted was my own husband, thing were too out of control and I had no idea how to fix it. So, I started to write the letters again, imagining the metaphorical gap between as nothing but a distance or time separation like when he was away. I thought if I was just patient enough, he would realize the same thing I had known all along- that we were meant to be together. The letter he found was about him."

Stumbling into the chair at the table, I collapse and pinch the bridge of my nose. How could we have been so blind? Narcissa had no idea Lucius wanted her back; it's no wonder she thought he was trying to be nice because he was either about to cheat on her again or he already was. She shut him down not because she loved someone else, but because she couldn't let him hurt her again.

"I am so, so sorry, Narcissa," I croak finally. "I just… I don't even…" My words trail off as I struggle with an explanation. Unable to continue, I cover my face with my hand to hide the shame and guilt.

"Severus," she gently pulls my hand away and holds it gently between her own. "Everything is quite alright. That is why I am here. To apologize, but also to thank you."

"Thank me?" I ask with incredulity. "I assisted Lucius in drugging you against your will! We were so busy trying to go behind your back, we had no idea how much we were hurting you. I nearly had a hand in ending your marriage! How can you possibly thank me?"

Her laugh rings through the air with mirth. "You are right," she admits with a teasing smile. "I should still hex you for your involvement. The truth is, without this whole mess you two created, I think Lucius and I would have just continued to misunderstand each other. If I hadn't been so enraged with you, I would have never had the courage to leave Lucius and Lucius would not have felt desperate enough to follow and beg me to come back."

"Lucius doesn't beg," I scoff, but I can't help the small smirk cross my face. "The man would offer his life before even thinking of begging."

"And offer he did when he begged on bended knee," she chuckles. Finishing her last sip of tea, she sends the teacup to the sink and rises to leave. "On a more serious note, Lucius and I have a lot of work to do on our relationship. Even though things are not perfect, we would be not be opposed to having you around the mansion again. That is, if you can find it in your heart to forgive my actions?"

"Tell Lucius I will be there Saturday for my usual drink and chat," I instruct. "I know our last meeting is probably still fresh in his mind, so would you please try to convince him to refrain from hexing me until at least after I apologize. I would like to admit fault before kicking his ass in another duel."

"I'm sure I can find _some_ way to persuade him," she smile slyly. I roll my eyes at her blatant innuendo as I release the wards on the kitchen and follow her through to the living room. Once in front of the Floo, she turns back to me and pulls me into a tight hug.

Twenty five years I have never seen Narcissa embrace anyone but Draco as a toddler. The ease of her gesture coupled with the fact that I don't feel awkward causes me to momentarily relax and draw my arms up around her like a long lost sister. Besides Minerva, Narcissa is the only woman I have ever thought of as family.

A rush of air blows across my face and I startle at the realization of my actions. Even before I can push Narcissa away, my gaze is locked into my wife's as she lowers her wand from her left hand.

* * *

"Miss Weasley," Snape coughs as he straightens his robes. I blink several times as I figure out where the ring transported me. We eye each other with blank expressions, until the woman in front of him finally turns to face me.

I can feel my jaw drop as I recognize Narcissa Malfoy giving me a warm, unmalicious smile. When I don't return her greeting, she looks slightly confused and a little taken back. Her gaze returns to Snape as he holds his left hand up to show her ring.

"Oh my," she gasps, her delicate hand covering her mouth in shock. "I do apologize, Severus. I had no idea you were wearing a fidelity ring."

"Yes," he replies, keeping his eyes locked on mine. "My wife and I have decided to strengthen our commitment to one another."

The weight of his words hit me like a charging hippogriff. He has never addressed me as his wife before. His cool demeanor and sly turn of phrase should make me uncomfortable and suspicious, but there is something honest about the entire situation.

When I felt the burn of my hand radiate through my torso, I thought for a minute that someone had cursed me. Hermione and I were in the library going over our latest Herbology essay and I yelped so loud, Madame Pince threatened me with detention. By the time I realized what had happened and explained it to Hermione, the sensation was gone and touching my wand to my hand was useless.

The confusion of learning my ring actually did work was short lived as the pain flared back up only a minute or two later. Without hesitation, I snatched my wand back up and touched it to the ring, hoping there was no incantation needed.

Everything about the entire room was surreal when I appeared, but now the confusion has clouded it into a flurry of questions. I open my mouth to reply back to Snape, but Narcissa is quicker to answer.

"I should go," she straightens up. It didn't occur to me before that she was acting differently, but now I watch her regain her composure into the haughty woman I have watched over the years.

She gives Snape a slight nod with pursed lips before reaching a handful of powder on the mantle. Her other hand stretches out with her palm face up towards the other end of the mantle. As startling as it was to see her wand suddenly fly across the room into her palm, nothing could have prepared me for what looked like a genuine smile in my direction as she stepped in the green flames.

"Miss Weasley," he repeats with more firmness in his voice. Startled out of my own confusion, I look at him. "I apologize for my actions just now. There is no excuse for my behavior."

"You're not cheating on me with her." It comes out more as a statement then a question.

"I would never," he hisses. Icy daggers fill his cold orbs as they bore into me and his jaw clenches in anger.

"No, not _her_ ," I correct myself. "McGonagall. You aren't cheating on me with McGonagall."

The sudden bubble of fury morphs into disbelief as his expression softens. He blinks several times like he is making sure that I actually said the words to him.

"Minerva?" In yet another startling turn of events, he runs his hand through his greasy hair, clearly unsure of how to continue. Finally, he frowns and says, "Why would you think I was cheating on you with Minerva? I can only assume by your surprised expression when you arrived that this was the first time you felt the effects of the ring."

"Yes, but I thought… I mean, you still saw her… and it never…" My stuttered reply trails off as my voice falters.

"Of course I still see her," he says, "I thought I made it clear that the purpose of the ring was not to severe our friendships with members of the opposite sex. In fact, I'm not even sure how you found out with my chess games with Minerva, but I assumed you understood it was mandatory without me having to explain."

My mouth runs dry. Mandatory chess games? Twice a week, McGonagall forces him to play chess with her? The absurdity of his words is almost laughable, but there is no way that his explanation is a lie.

"I saw the lipstick on your collar," I shake my head in denial. "You had been drinking and you smelt like perfume. You didn't even deny it was her when I confronted you about it. I couldn't believe it was her, but you were the one that said, 'Do you know any other Headmistress?' Is it someone else?"

"Lipstick," he mutters, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. Sighing deeply, he opens his eyes and shakes his head. "I can assure you the attentions of the woman that left that disgusting color on my collar were unwanted and unreciprocated." A pause follows and his eyes widen as if it finally dawns on him. "Miss Weasley, did you have sex with Potter as revenge for what you thought was infidelity from me?"

Like a knife in my gut, I suck in a sharp breath and feel my vision blur. The memory of Harry and me in bed floods my mind, so I look away and pray he isn't reading my mind. Every fiber in my body screams for me to say no, but my mouth will not move. Even though I am convinced it was an act of love, I know on some level revenge was in the back of my mind.

As the first tear rolls down my cheek, I dare to glance up at him. For years, I have looked upon his intense stare under that blank mask. However, today is the first time I have ever seen his stare expressionless and his face perplexed.

He must have read my answer on my face because he says nothing as he turns and leaves the room.


	28. Chapter 28

True to her word, Narcissa did manage to convince Lucius to hear me out before we dueled. Well, it wasn't a duel per say, more like a moment I let my guard down and Lucius took the opening to send a tickling charm my way.

How I loathe the man for using such a ridiculous charm to humiliate me! Bad enough I was apologizing, but I would have rather been rolling on the floor with tears of pain rather than tears of laughter.

When he finally did see it fit to release me from my punishment, he poured a drink like so many times before and we commenced to our usual spots to catch up. I should have known the first words out of his mouth would be questions about the state of my marriage rather than arrogantly gloating over his own. Tired and in no mood for more embarrassment, I relayed the entire story of her revenge plot for my assumed infidelity.

"And I thought my marriage was fucked up," Lucius mutters from behind his glass.

"Thanks for your astounding assessment, but I did come to that conclusion all on my own," I reply sardonically. He has the good grace to look apologetic for his comment, but I just shrug.

"So what are you going to do now?" It is a simple question, but the answer is not so simple.

"She's been adequately punished," I remind him. "A fidelity ring will ensure Potter keeps his filthy hands to himself and I am quite sure the guilt was overwhelming when she discovered I have been faithful since day one."

"Good Godfric," Lucius exclaims in shock. "I ask what you are going to do in your relationship and you immediately speak of punishment? Will you ever think of the girl as anything more than a child or a student?"

"Hard to think of her as a child when I remember the very adult body basking in the afterglow of an orgasm," I quip back. He presses his lips together in exasperation, so I add under my breath, "The old Lucius would enjoy my crass response."

"But you admit that you do see her differently," he ignores my remark. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"Just because I can confirm she is indeed a woman does not mean anything has changed," I argue. "I have taught hundreds of children over the years and at some point, they all become less childlike. There are still dynamics between us that are hard to overlook."

"Oh I bet," he drawls. I glare back and he wisely bite the next part of whatever sarcastic comment was forming.

"Why don't we discuss your marriage?" I suggest. "Narcissa gave me one version and now I'd like to hear yours."

"However she told it is exactly how it happened," he answers with a smug smile. "Besides we both know my sappy version is likely to make your weak stomach churn."

"Contrary to popular belief, I am happy that you two have taken proper steps in the right direction," I admit. "I wouldn't begrudge my two best friends a life of happiness just because my own marriage is an abyss of misery."

"Well, if I could slip you that potion you brewed for Narcissa, you might find my advice worthwhile," he retorts. I start to comment how we had agreed to change topics, but he cuts me off. "Haven't you wondered what it might be like to let your prejudices fall away and try to form some sort of relationship with her that does not involve you as an authoritarian figure and her as a subordinate? I'm not even talking about a romantic relationship. A friendship, an acquaintance, I'll even go so far as to suggest pen pals."

"The possibility may have been there before, but her actions have changed everything," I say chucking my glass on the end table with a loud clink. "Just like I told you when you complained about Narcissa shutting down your attempts, she cannot be forced to listen to reason. We both saw how drugging your wife was not the most brilliant of our ideas, so what makes you think my wife is any different?"

"I am not suggesting any such thing," Lucius denies hastily. "I am merely suggesting that you take your own advice for once in your bloody life and wait for her to open up to you. There is nothing wrong with having something more with her. You do not teach her anymore and even if you did, she only has a few months left at Hogwarts as a student. Whatever is holding you back from pursuing a simple friendship is starting to become immature and quite frankly irritating. Pull your head out of your arse and look at the woman before you!"

"Rekindling your dead marriage has sure turned you into a hopelessly romantic, cheeky bastard," I snipe back. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say spewing all this shite about love makes you Albus Dumbledore reincarnated. Next you'll be suggesting I take a love potion and woo her."

"You are a damned fool sometimes," he shakes his head in defeat. As he runs his fingers through his platinum locks, he sets his glass on the table and leans toward me. "You are right that I am the last person to give advice on the proper workings of a marriage. However, as someone who nearly lost the most amazing woman I have ever met, I do have some ground to stand on when I say that I didn't know what I had until it was almost too late."

"There is too much conflict between us," I point out. "Too much distrust, too much hatred, too much betrayal, too much darkness."

"Every great relationship starts from a place of conflict," he quotes. "But the longer you refuse to acknowledge the possibility that you could be something more than enemies, the longer the conflict will continue and the worse it will be. I think you have both forgotten that the real enemy here is the Ministry and their laws. Perhaps a romantic relationship is not in the tea leaves for you both, but I can't imagine what would be so terrible about a friendship."

I lean back in my chair. Friendships are based on trust and honesty and common interests. No, perhaps that is not true. Minerva and I have been friends for years despite the fact that we share no common interests and very little trust up until recently. I shared more common ground with Lucius, but there was some trust and virtually no honesty until now. Even my friendship with Narcissa has been based on less of those traits and due more to the fact that she was married to Lucius, but we do somehow consider ourselves good friends today. Are the laws of friendship so fluid?

"I don't know," I finally answer back. "There is just too many variables and too many problems to solve. I'd rather just leave it."

Lucius takes the hint and picks up his glass again. We sit in silence for a bit until he breaks it by quietly saying, "Do what you feel is right, but just remember that nothing in your marriage has worked so far. I was just suggesting that maybe you rethink your strategy."

The afternoon continues with nothing more than idle prattle on various business endeavors Lucius is making and the latest news of Draco's life with his new wife and new job at Gringotts. I listen with interest, but I also replay our conversation in the back of my mind.

Although it vexes me to admit it, there is truth in his statement. The only thing that seemed to work between me and the girl was that short time period in which we shared dinner in the evenings. It wasn't happy, but it wasn't miserable either. It just _was_.

But like I told him, there is no point in considering a "friendship" when the conflict is too overwhelming. There are hundred problems between us and not enough patience. I can acknowledge that I want us to be on more civil grounds. I can even acknowledge that an equal relationship in which we both contribute is far easier to work with than constantly creating rules and administering punishment.

The only question now becomes how to get from here to there in the most logical and beneficial steps possible. Each problem solved is a stepping stone to creating such a utopia, so I know I need to start by addressing our most recent conversation.

As if by some twist of fate, she is waiting for me as soon as I step from the Floo.

* * *

I check the clock on the mantle again for the hundredth time as I wait on the couch. Snape told Narcissa he would be at the Malfoys, but there is no telling when he will be back. I suppose his secrecy is just another way of punishing me.

Hermione has been so understanding the last few weeks that I almost didn't want to tell her about my latest argument with Snape. There is only so many times I can hear her say, "I told you so," before I turn my wand on her. Fortunately, she refrained from saying it, but instead became insistent that I should apologize to him. We argued for the better part of the afternoon until I finally agreed to think about it.

Truthfully, she is right. I do owe him an apology, but humiliating myself by begging for forgiveness is not exactly comforting. An apology would only warrant his typical sneer with some snide comment to belittle what dignity I have left. The only problem with not apologizing is waiting for the guilt to eat me alive.

My parents didn't raise me to be that way, so I can only imagine what their reaction would be if they ever found out. Hermione and Ron swear they will never tell, but there is no guarantee that Snape won't blackmail me with it or that Harry won't let it slip. Harry was obviously shocked when I showed him my ring. He tried to argue that we could just be together in every other way, but I refused. I think trying to maintain our friendship after I got married was just one more bad decision that led to this mistake, so I told him we needed to go our separate ways once and for all.

Since that talk with Harry, I have questioned if that was the right thing to do. He was crushed and I was upset. It was like receiving the letter from the Ministry all over again, except this time I was the one who fucked up. My heart aches for him still, but I have been trying to convince myself it was for the best.

Finding out Snape was not cheating on me, just adds to the weight of my guilt and the confirmation that I have truly fucked up. If the only way to ease my conscious is to apologize, then so be it. It can't possibly make me feel any worse, can it?

The Floo finally flares green and Snape steps through with an elegance I have never been able to master. He looks surprised to see me, but the expression is quickly masked by is usual stoney countenance. I take a deep breath.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" In my own ears, I can hear how weak and unsure I sound. He doesn't respond so I steady my nerves and try again. "If you are not too busy, I just wanted to talk to you about the other day."

Snape keeps his eyes locked on mine and I am sure he is reading my mind. I push the temptation to look away in the hope that he can see my sincerity.

"What about the other day?" He folds his arms and leans against the mantle.

"I didn't get a chance to apologize," I reply.

"And exactly what are you going to apologize for?" His voice is low and dangerous, but it is nothing I don't deserve. "For disrespecting me and my home? For accusing me of such low, cowardly behavior? For taking revenge upon a sin I did not commit? Are you truly sorry for your behavior or are you just sorry you were caught?"

"Yes. I mean, for all of it," I stumble over my words feebly. His eyebrows raise, so I take a deep breath to steady my thoughts. "What I mean is that I am sorry for everything. I disrespected you and your home and accused you unjustly. I was stupid and immature and I don't deserve to have your forgiveness. But I need to tell you I am sorry because you deserve an apology."

I wait for him to speak, but he just stands there staring back with his unchanged face. His eyes don't even blink. I am sure there is some nasty retort coming, some insult, some cruel remark to add to my guilt, but none comes. Just when I think he is going to reach for his wand to hex me, he clears his throat.

"Obviously, this is nothing more than an attempt to relieve the guilt on your own conscience which will continue to remain sullied until you come to terms with your actions. Therefore, your apology is neither wanted nor necessary, and even if it were, your words have no influence on the events of the past and cause your stuttering speech to be excessively long winded when a few words would have adequately conveyed your remorse," he drones in a cold tone.

I feel my cheeks burn in anger and humiliation, but I drop my head rather than argue. Mentally, I kick myself for foolishly believing an attempted apology would be received with anything other than disdain.

"However," he says louder, but somehow in a more gentle voice, "if the pair of us are to move past this incident, I have no other choice but to accept it."

"Really?" As shocked as I am, I can't help but sound slightly hopeful as well. Although I should be more suspicious that he is mocking or belittling me, I study his face for any sign of insincerity. His normally dark eyes are less narrowed, giving the impression of a lessened tension between us.

"Miss Weasley, I am not in a habit of saying things that I do not mean," he sighs. "The events over the last few weeks have proven that we cannot continue to be at odds with each other. I have come to the realization that changes need to be made and they need to be made immediately."

"What kind of changes?" The momentary relief of him accepting my apology disappears as my stomach lurches. Only he can take a sincere moment and turn into some kind of blackmail. I can only imagine what new rules he is going to come up with now.

"I believe that the few meals we shared at the beginning of our marriage were an example of the type of civility we should be able to show one another. There seemed to be no animosity at that time as well as the opportunity for us to learn about one another. Therefore, I think it would be in our best interest to resume them, preferably several times a week," he states with clinical accuracy.

"Dinner?" I sound completely daft as the word leaves my mouth.

"That would be the meals I was referring to," he answers. I continue to stare dumbly as he adds, "I am well aware that the idea sounds ridiculous, but I would not suggest such a tedious experiment if I did not believe there were some merit behind my suggestion."

The urge to pinch myself suddenly crosses my mind as I cut through his own "excessively long winded" speech and realize he is not demanding I have dinner with him. The man just suggested we eat dinner together and is now waiting for my response.

"Yes. I mean, I think it would a good idea as well," I admit. He tilts his head slightly in acceptance.

"As the Head of my House, I am required to be present in the Great Hall for the majority of my meals, so I think it would be easiest to share evening meals on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays." He leaves no room for argument, but I have no reason to anyway. Three meals a week doesn't seem so bad, so I nod back. "I believe our last classes end around six so a dinner at seven should suffice," he adds as an afterthought.

"Okay," I say quietly.

There is an awkward silence between us as we both decide what to do next. Shifting on his feet, he gives a nod. "If that is all Miss Weasley, then I will see you later at ten." He starts to leave and I can't help but call out to him.

"Sir?" Snape stops in his tracks and raises his eyebrows. Gathering my courage, I look him square in the eye and ask, "Do you really forgive me? For everything?"

"As I said before, your guilt is a creation of your own mind. However, I learned a long time ago that forgiveness is a free commodity that I have no right to withhold as long as there is sincerity."

"So you aren't going to hold it against me?"

"Do not mistake forgiveness for trust," he warns, but not harshly. "You have a long way to go to earn a little if any of my trust."

I look down in shame as I realize the stupidity of my assumption as he continues to exit the room. Of course he is going to wait until sometime in the future to bring up my mistake. This is the same man who held his grudge against Harry's father and godfather for nearly thirty years.

Just as he passes me on the couch, he stops momentarily and says in a low voice, "Although, I believe I have the equally tedious task of earning your trust as well." Without another word or a second look in my direction, he sweeps out of the room.

I'm not sure if Snape intended to, but his last comment gives me some hope that things might be looking up again. Maybe there is a chance that my guilt will subside over time.

* * *

Needless to say, something shifted once again that night as well. Since admitting to Lucius how difficult it is to physically see her as a child, I felt a stirring in the depths of my mind. Perhaps it is the animalist instinct to mark what is mine that has started hinting at changing the way we do perform the act. There was even a slight hesitation on my part before we started last time in which I contemplated not taking the arousal potion and even foregoing the quick release potion as well.

It took me nearly two whole minutes of weighing the pros and cons in my mind to finally come to the realization that one civil conversation with the girl does not a relationship make. There is still too much negative history between us that would put me at too much risk for embarrassment. Although it would be nice to not have to brew those two potions so often, they will continue to be part of my regiment until I can guarantee a successful outcome otherwise.

But as I turned off the light and moved to the bed that night, I found myself wondering what she was thinking as I released my erection and pushed inside her. We have had sex a few times since she was with Potter, but her resignation was almost worse than her anxiety. Now that we have had a conversation that didn't end in another argument, I wonder if her resignation has turned into curiosity. Surely, now that she has experienced the enjoyable side of sex, she realizes how miserable this is for me as well.

She had used the lubrication again which wasn't really a surprise, but a little bit of a blow to my self-esteem. Thinking about the fact that she was so easily aroused by Potter made me glad I had a potion to keep my erection but also taunted me with the fact that even if we are on decent terms with each other this is still the worst intercourse I have ever had. Again, the animalistic instinct hissed at me to show her that I was more than capable of creating pleasure in a loveless duty.

To test myself, I tried to hold back my orgasm and focus on her reactions. The tension of her body is always noticeable, even though I don't touch her. However, as I kept my rhythm at a steady pace I noticed she matched it by flexing her inner walls. She did not lift her hips to meet mine and I certainly didn't adjust my angle to hit her most pleasurable zones, but it still left the feeling that there was something more to be desired.

Before I could fully decide to experiment with trying to seek pleasure, the pain shot through my body as my climax demanded release. Unable to focus on anything else, I let go and shot my seed with the last few thrusts. As my body regained strength, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to finish with her tight quim muscles milking my cock as well.

I caught my breath and silently cursed myself for thinking such stupid and repulsive thoughts. Just as I do everytime, I quickly pulled out of her and practically ran to the bathroom. When I was finally safe in the shower, my senses seemed to reappear as well, reprimanding me for my foolish curiosity. In my haste to put us down the right path, I nearly got ahead of myself with my selfish need to stop these unfulfilling climaxes.

It wasn't until I was back in my room ready for bed that something did click into place. The girl was by no means ugly or undesirable and I am a man who does need the occasional sexual release. Since my options are limited to pleasure by my hand or the girl, I have subconsciously decided she is the better choice.

While one side of me is disgusted for being a sick mixture of a lecherous old man and a randy hormonal teenager, the other side of me argues that I have already come to the conclusion that she is not a child and in a few months down the road, she will no longer be considered a student of Hogwarts. It was only hours ago that I admitted to Lucius that a friendship is entirely possible, so is my mind now jumping into the future holding some kind of romantic notions as well?

Scoffing into the darkness, I roll on my side. No, a simple friendship is one thing, but to become something like "Friends with Benefits" or even just "Fuck Buddies" is stretching the limits. I mentally kick myself as Minerva's words about the fidelity rings come floating back to me. In my haste, I did permanently force myself to remain monogamous. Therefore, my mind is only coming to the only logical conclusion possible: twenty years of dissatisfying, unpleasurable sex or twenty years of having orgasms that I could actually enjoy.

Unwilling to dissect the issue further, I fell into sleep with the knowledge that my own lustful brain might have just added another volatile ingredient into an already unstable cauldron.


	29. Chapter 29

Friday night and the third day of our new eating agreement.

Surprisingly enough, sharing meals together has been quite successful. The kitchen has become an unspoken neutral area as if we had been eating together for years. There is still plenty of tension and awkwardness, but no more so than before.

I fully expected her to avoid me Sunday as she was prone to do, but instead we spent the rest of the weekend passing by each other in shared silence. She entered the study quietly to work on her assignments as I graded papers and I found her reading by the fireplace in the evening as I was leaving for my night patrol. It was certainly different, but not a terrible change.

When Monday finally came around, I was sure she would renege on her part of the agreement and go to the Great Hall for dinner. However, she came in the kitchen early to set the table and watch me put the final touches on the pan seared halibut. We didn't say much that first night, but she was courteous enough to compliment my cooking again and make small talk about the weather taking a turn for the worst as fall is now in full swing.

Wednesday, she arrived even earlier before dinner and asked me to explain what was in the chicken casserole. The conversation slightly more engaged as it turned towards the upcoming holidays.

Christmas has never been a particularly enjoyable time for me save for the fact that it is a two week long break in which there are considerably less students to test my patience. A few times over the last couple of years, I have joined Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco for the evening meal on Christmas Eve as well as their annual New Years Party. I suppose they are the closest thing I have to family, so it only makes sense that I spend an important holiday in the company of people I actually like rather than the annoyingly cheerful staff.

However, I was most surprised to find the girl was not particularly thrilled about spending the holiday surrounded by an infinite number of Weasley's.

"There is no reason to forego a visit to your family just because I have no desire to go," I stated indifferently. There was no way on this green earth I was going to spend hours on end in a sea of threatening Weasley's and no way out.

"I wouldn't expect you to go unless you were expecting me to show up to the Malfoy's for New Year's," she said evenly.

"If you are worried about our weekly duty, I am sure we can make arrangements so you do not feel obligated to miss out on time with your own family."

She blushed a deep shade of crimson and lowered her eyes. "No," she said, "I wasn't concerned about _that_. I mean, thank you for considering it, but I just don't really feel like going back this time."

Curious, I pressed her further until she finally admitted that Potter has become as much a part of her family as Granger had in the most recent years. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be invited as a sign of good faith and she had no desire to spend the day around him.

My jaw nearly dropped in shock at her confession, but I remained completely placid in my expression. That small glimmer of hope I felt Saturday night surged back through my veins with renewed vigor. But I quickly squashed it back down with the realization that it might have had nothing to do with working on our marriage and everything to do with the fact that Potter might not have taken kindly to me enforcing fidelity from my wife. Determined to keep remain civil, I changed topic of conversation shortly to the recent announcement of the Quidditch season resuming.

Although Quidditch is not a favorite conversation topic of mine, she was quite excited at the prospect of upcoming practices and the prospect of winning the Quidditch Cup this year.

"Dream big, Miss Weasley," I taunted with a smug look, "because when my house's team wins, you will undoubtedly wake up to find yourself in a nightmare."

"Professor," she said straightening up in her most arrogant pose, "The only nightmare I will be in is the one that includes your sulking, bad temper for a week afterwards when your precious Slytherin's are humiliated on the pitch."

"I am offended," I put my hand over my heart in mock hurt. "Even if by some extraordinary stroke of luck you did win, I am wounded that you believe my bad temper over the loss would dissipate after only a week."

"Forgive me," she teased back with a false expression of remorse, "I should have been more mindful of your _fragile emotional state_. A loss like that would extend your mood for well over a month."

It takes all my willpower to refrain from snorting in a most undignified manner. "If I were ever in a 'fragile emotional state', then I would hope someone would have the decency to put me out of my misery."

"Well, then let me be the first to volunteer," she smiles sweetly. "No doubt the masses will be lining up after the Gryffindor/Slytherin match."

"We shall see, Miss Weasley, we shall see," I finish before making a mental note to give the Slytherin team a firm reminder that failing to crush the Gryffindors might result in detention for the entire team.

Thankful at the success of our Monday and Wednesday, I decide to push the conversation a little further tonight. The constant reminder that her time at Hogwarts is nearly up coupled with the new motivation to move our relationship into more civilized territory has brought up the need to discuss our future after she passes her NEWTS. With my job placing me here for the better part of the year, it would only be prudent to address the issue of the future.

Her face darkens when I finally ask about her about her plans for the future as she lowers the fork slowly to her plate. Taking a deep breath, she blinks as if trying to keep the tears back.

"I haven't really thought about it," she says. "It seems… pointless."

"Pointless," I repeat. A slight irritation enters my voice as I continue in a harsher voice. "The only thing pointless is your constant moping. I will not tolerate you sulking for the next twenty years just because you are still unhappy about being married to me."

"I am not moping," she argues with anger flashing warningly in her eyes. "I just don't understand why I should make plans for anything when I am just going to end up pregnant and taking care of our child."

The bitterness in her voice immediately sends a wave of regret through me. Cursing myself for forgetting she had no idea about the potions, I swallow and search for the right words to make amends.

"Forgive me, Miss Weasley, that was cruel of me," I apologize. "I can understand why you would be reluctant to think about the future. I'm sure the thought of sacrificing your future career for a child is not something you ever thought you'd do, so I'm not sure I can demand that you do such a thing now."

"You'd stop teaching to raise our child?" Her eyes widened in astonishment as I realize I'm bordering on saying something I might regret.

"No," I refuse. Her face falls momentarily, but I just add, "I'm sure Minerva will make concessions for a house elf to help if you should happen to have a career, but that is far from the point. Wasn't there something you wanted to do after Hogwarts, before this law was forced upon us?"

Rethinking for a second she frowns. "I always wanted to play professional Quidditch, maybe for the Kenmare Kestrels or even the Holyhead Harpies if I was good enough. If I couldn't play Quidditch then I liked the idea of being an Auror with…" Her face goes beet red and I know she was about to say Potter's name. "But I don't think I want to do that anymore," she concludes quickly.

Ignoring her slip up, I remind her, "I am sure your talent on the Quidditch Pitch will not go unnoticed once the season picks back up, but there is very little longevity in such a career. I think it would be wise to look at other options as well. There are apprenticeships, higher education institutes, and even jobs in the Ministry that might give you some long term goals to work towards."

Her face lit up at my rare compliment on her Quidditch skills and then morphed into a sincere thoughtful expression as I continued. When I finished, I could see her running through my words in her head as if it is the first time she really has thought about her future.

"I guess we'll just have to see," she shrugs without conviction. "Like I said, I just never really thought about it before."

Her passivity is a little irksome, but I drop the subject for now. Obviously, this is a difficult topic to broach without revealing my part in being noncompliant to the law, so I make a mental note to continue this conversation at a later date.

"I suppose so, Miss Weasley," is all I say to let her know we are finished discussing it.

"Professor," she starts to speak with hesitation, "I was wondering, is it possible for you to call me something else? I know you keep telling me that this marriage isn't real and I understand that you are still a teacher even if you aren't teaching me anymore. But, can't you call me something else, something besides Miss Weasley? Just while we are having dinner, maybe?"

She steals a look up from her plate with a pleading expression. Of course my first instinct is to snap back at her ridiculous notion, but I think it over instead.

There is some merit to her request. I haven't called Lucius, Minerva, or Narcissa by their last names since I was a boy. In fact, I don't call my colleagues by their surnames unless we are in front of the students and they are far from being my "friends". Even during the war, I was disliked by everyone in the Order, but they still allowed me to use their first names.

My face immediately scowls as I think about calling her "Ginny". Such a childish, silly name. Just the way it would sound coming out of my mouth makes me shudder at the foolishness. However, "Ginevra" is a perfectly acceptable name, much more mature. The whole point of this exercise is to become more familiar with each other. I suppose a first name basis is definitely a step in the right direction, no matter how uncomfortable it feels on my tongue.

The only problem I have is the thought of her using my first name. It is unnatural, almost offensive to have someone so young address me by my first name. Even as a child, Draco would address me as "Sir" or "Professor". But, then again, it is only right that I extend the courtesy to her if I am going to call her by her first name.

Shifting in my chair uncomfortably, I clear my throat to speak. I just start to open my mouth when a letter comes floating under the kitchen door and hovers between us over the table. Dumbfound, we both watch as a mouth forms on the envelope and a loud feminine voice starts speaking:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Severus Tobias Snape,_

_As per section nine of Order 847, otherwise known as the 'Marriage Law', each couple is required to submit to examination from a Ministry appointed official sometime between the third and sixth month of the marriage._

_The appointment will determine the overall physical, mental, and magical health of a union in order to better guide couples through this transitioning period. An official will then identify the state of the union and determine if adjustment to the union will be made. A course of action can include but will not be limited to, fertility treatment, counseling, mental health potions, or the removal of any and all current or future children thus created by such union. In extreme cases of abuse or rebellion, fines or sentencing to Azkaban will be used as punishment._

_Enclosed is the date and time for your appointment. Please be aware that ATTENDANCE IS REQUIRED BY BOTH PARTIES. Both parties must be prepared to give biological samples for health screening, written answers for a questionnaire, and verbal responses for an interview. Any questions may be asked at the appointment._

_Sincerely,_

_Gerdie Rombuslord_

_Deputy Liason_

_Department of Magical Unions_

It floats to the table and I catch it before it lands in the gravy. With the letter is the information for the appointment and a copy of the portion of the law pertaining to the interview. As I inspect the papers, a small voice across from me breaks me out of my thoughts.

"What does this mean?"

* * *

He rereads over the letter as if it is nothing more than a gossip column in the Daily Prophet. My mouth goes dry and my hunger disappears as snippets of the letter replay in my head.

_Adjustments to be made… course of action… fertility treatment, counseling, mental health potions… fines… Azkaban... punishment._

"What does it mean?" The question slips out of my mouth in an unexpected whisper and he glances up as my eyes widen in horror.

"This is nothing new," he states in a bored tone. "Everyone is subjected to this process at some point. Didn't you read the letter sent when the law was passed?"

"Yes," I breath, "but it didn't say anything about Azkaban or forcing me to take potions! What if I get fined? My parents can't afford something like that and neither can I!" I grip the edge of the table in panic as endless scenarios start to play out in my head.

"Calm down," he snaps, but not unkindly. "Unless you have been secretly taking contraception, you have nothing to worry about. My guess is they will run a few diagnostic spells, ask us about married life, and then send us on our way. For Merlin's sake, take a deep break and relax!"

"But what if they use Veritaserum? And then they'll find out about…" My voice cracks as my face burns in shame. I can feel a sob rising up and I struggle to keep it from erupting in my throat.

"Potter?" he finishes my thought and I nod.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"The Ministry will not question your fidelity," he reasons. "They will be more interested in our procreational activities than the problems of our marriage."

"But if they use Veritaserum, I won't be able to hide it. Isn't there some way to get around it? You had to hide things from Voldemort for years. Can't you teach me to resist it? Or give me some kind of antidote?" I can hear the desperation in my voice and it takes bit of resistance for me not to drop to my knees and beg.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snaps. "Resisting the effects of Veritaserum is not easy and can result in extreme discomfort to even the most skilled of magical persons. Giving you an antidote would be construed as an act of rebellion against the system."

As if to drive the point home, he adds darkly, "Besides, I think my service to the Dark Lord hardly compares to a nosy Ministry employee asking you questions you are uncomfortable with." I drop my eyes back to my plate realizing how stupid I just sounded.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, desperately trying to keep my fear and shame from showing. "I just don't want them to know."

Snape reaches across the table as if to place his hand on mine, but then thinks twice and lays it on the table. Instead, he rubs his face and shakes his head. "All you have to do is answer their questions. If you try to resist, they will believe you are hiding something much worse like a contraceptive charm or infertility potion. I can assure you that one hour of inane and intrusive questions from a Ministry is far better than a week of observation or months of marriage counseling."

I start to argue, but then quickly stop as I realize he has a point. Resisting the Veritaserum will just cause more problems. I have no idea what kind of questions they might ask, but I know it would just be humiliating. A shudder runs through me as it occurs to me that they could force me to put the memory in a pensieve for the whole world to view and live.

As if he knows what I am thinking, he takes a deep breath and rubs his face. "Perhaps it would be better if we just focus on dinner for now. This meeting is a few weeks away and worrying about it until then is not healthy or logical."

"Okay," I say, but only half heartedly. A million questions continue running through my mind as we sit in silence.

"Ginevra." His voice startles me out of my thoughts and I can't help but look shocked. We lock eyes and I can see a softer expression briefly before it hardens as he says, "Please trust me."

A huge sigh I didn't know I was holding in finally releases as I exhale slowly. Only a moment ago, I was afraid I would burst in tears of remorse and guilt. Now, I feel like crying in relief as he offers this olive branch between us. Those few words he spoke held no malice and no sting, just the promise for us to move forward.

Not trusting myself to speak, I nod and stare at my plate. We finish our meal in silence as I realize that for the first time ever, I am not even questioning his motivations or suspecting some ulterior motive.


	30. Chapter 30

"So, Ron and I will be apparating back Saturday morning after exams," Hermione says tossing the book she was reading to the side. "Do you want to apparate us or come later in the day?" I look up from the magazine I have been reading and glare harshly at her.

"I'm not going home for Christmas," I reply in a great effort to keep my voice steady. Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.

"Because you don't want to or because _he_ won't let you?"

"Because it's too much trouble," I answer irritably. I can tell she doesn't believe me, so I give my best exaggerated sarcastic voice by asking, "Isn't _Harry_ going to the Burrow for the holidays?" In my attempt to point out her faux pas, I practically spit his name.

Her mouth forms a perfect "O" as she makes the connection. She looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, "I'm sure that if Professor Snape came with you…"

I cut her off with a disdainful bark of laughter. "Yeah, Snape at the Burrow for Christmas dinner," I roll my eyes deeply. "Voldemort could show up and it wouldn't be nearly as stressful."

Hermione rolls her eyes back and gives me a playful smack. "It was just a suggestion," she mutters under her breath.

"It's better this way," I explain. "Snape and I are trying to work things out, so it would be better if both of us just stay away from Harry as much as possible. Less chance for conflict. Besides, he and I will get to have dinner every day together instead of just a couple of times a week. Unless of course the Ministry deems our marriage in need of 'counselling' sessions or something. Did you receive your appointment time yet?"

"No." I try to hide my look of jealousy, but she catches it out of the corner of her eye. "I can only imagine how many people got married in one single week. We were married a week after you, so that probably means mine isn't far behind. It'll probably be here any day." I know she is trying to be reassuring, but it only makes me feel even more singled out and nervous.

"Yeah, probably," I shrug without much conviction. "I'm just worried. I wish there was someone who could tell me what it is like."

"From what I have heard, it is different for everyone," she says. "George and Angelina said they received a home inspection in their letter, but that is probably because they are expecting now. Neville and Hannah were suppose to have their interview yesterday, but were rescheduled due to some mishap with the plumbing shutting the offices down for three days. But Lavender and Dean went yesterday. They were given no medical exam, but had to fill out a thirty page questionnaire. My guess is that it has something to do with Lavender contracting Lycanthropy since most of the questions pertained to how they were dealing with her transformations and what their plan was for when she gets pregnant."

"Great," I mutter.

"It won't be that terrible," she continues to reason. "I honestly doubt they will ask about extramarital affairs. Pureblood arranged marriages have a history of infidelity. The point of this law is to force people to procreate. By the sound of that letter, sleeping around might actually be condoned since it creates more opportunity for conception."

"Gee thanks," I snap. "I'm so glad the whole ministry approves of me turning into a heartless adulteress. That makes me feel loads better."

"Oh, come on, Ginny. You know what I meant," she tries to argue, but I cut her off.

"Whatever," I wave my hand. "Can we just talk about something else?"

"Sure," she nods. She waits for a second and then starts in on the questions I knew she was just waiting to ask. "So these dinners… they seem to be helping?"

"Well, they aren't _not_ helping," I quip back. She gives me a pointed look, so I say, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. And is he calling you by your name now?"

"Well, he's started calling me Ginevra, but I guess that's better than 'Miss Weasley' or 'Mrs. Snape'."

"Yes, it is better," she agrees. "So things are less tense between you two?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Okay," she draws out, barely keeping her agitation at my vague answers out of her voice. "What do you talk about?"

"I don't know."

" _Ginny_ ," she draws out in exasperation.

"I'm serious," I say holding my hands up in surrender. "Nothing, really. Just random stuff. Weather, Quidditch. He asked me once about what I was going to do after Hogwarts. We don't really have a lot in common. It's just hard to know what to talk about with him."

"You could talk about potions," she suggests excitedly. "I mean, you have the world's foremost Potion's master sitting across from you. The man has more knowledge about potions and ingredients than anyone in the world. And can you imagine some of the ingredients he's worked with? Mermaid scales, Acromantula venom, even Sal Ammoniac. If it were me, I wouldn't be able to stop asking him about it."

"But you are into that kind of stuff," I point out. "I'm not even taking Potion's this year. Besides, the point is for us to get to know each other, not for him to give me a potion's lesson over dinner."

"So why not play twenty questions?" A snort escapes me, but she shoots me a look. "I'm serious. Obviously, you two can hold a conversation, but you just have trouble getting one started. If you want to get to know him, then you have to ask him more personal questions. What is his favorite color? Where does he like to go on holiday? It might sound stupid, but it might actually help."

I let a deep sigh out. "What if he refuses to answer? I can't make him tell me about himself."

"Then set up some rules," she says. "For every question he refuses to answer, you get a question that you get to refuse to answer as well. Or you could say that for every question he refuses to answer, you get to ask two questions in return." She must sense that I am still unconvinced because she adds, "If you two are serious about trying to get to know each other, then you will find a way to make the game work for you."

"It's just not that simple," I shake my head. "Too much has happened. We are so different and so distrustful of each other. I just don't think a simple children's game is going to fix this."

"Of course it isn't going to fix it," she says matter-of-factly. "But at least it'll keep you from talking about the same four topics over and over again. Just think about it, okay?"

To her credit, it is an interesting idea, but Snape would never go for it. It has been nearly two weeks since he has actually sneered at me and I'd like to keep it that way. One stupid suggestion and I can only imagine the sarcastic comments that'll come out of his mouth.

"Fine, I'll think about it," I relent finally.

"Really?" Tired of arguing, I just nod my head to signal another change of topic. Of course she immediately pulls out a new color coded study schedule for our N.E.W.T.S. and begins explaining how to use it.

I should have known she would move from an uncomfortable topic to the most boring topic available.

* * *

"Sir?"

Her timid voice breaks the monotony of our forks clinking against our plates. We are having a simple dinner of chicken and vegetables. She came into the kitchen while I was still cooking, but there wasn't any small talk except for her quickly asking me if I needed any help. Of course I declined, but that seemed to be the end of any conversation between us.

For nearly ten minutes, I have been trying to come up with some way to open up a conversation between us. Things were going so well and then everything got very stale. There are only so many times I can talk about the weather or Quidditch before silence becomes more appealing.

It is a relief that she has spoken first tonight, but I am apprehensive about what she might say. I raise my gaze to meet hers evenly and raise my eyebrow in response. She seems slightly nervous, so I steel myself against whatever question is about to come out of her mouth.

"Sir," she starts again, "I was wondering if you'd answer a question for me." I nod to indicate she can continue. She takes a deep breath and blurts out, "What is your favorite color?"

I can't help but frown in confusion. My mind immediately begins forming question after question to determine her motive behind such a simple question. Why is she asking me? Why does she want to know? Why does it suddenly matter what my favorite color is? What _is_ my favorite color?

My pause must have made her even more nervous because she immediately jumps into an explanation. "It isn't a trick question or anything. I was just trying to come up with something to talk about. If the point of eating together is to learn about each other, than we should probably discuss more than just the weather. I mean, I could ask you a question and then once you answer, you can ask me a question. It's kind of like a game. You know, just to help us move things along."

Vaguely, my mind flashes back to those summer days three decades earlier when Lily and I use to sit in the park near our house and play a game of asking random questions. Lily wanted to know everything about magic and I just wanted to know everything about her. We would ask back and forth until a question would send us off on a tangent for a while. It was simple and childish, but entertaining nonetheless.

At first, I think about refusing to indulge in such childish antics, but since the silence isn't really getting us anywhere, I decide there can't be any harm in playing along for the moment. Clearing my throat, I answer, "Green. And yours?"

"Blue. Not a light blue, but a darker kind. I guess a kind of a dark cerulean to be honest. Like the sky as it fades from day to night," she says. "What shade of green do you like best?"

"I suppose that would depend on the context. Obviously I am a Slytherin, so my house colors are the right shade for school spirit. However, a dark forest green works better for the decorum of my chambers," I motion out to the living area as an example. "But even though I find most shades of green tolerable, mint green is a color I absolutely abhor."

"I guess with all the black you wear, mint green is simply too bright," she suggests almost playfully.

"No," I reply. "It reminds me too much of a potion my mother use to make me drink when I had a cold."

"Leek syrup?" Astonished that she even knows about such an old remedy, I nod. Before I can ask she explains. "My mom use to make it for me and my brothers since pepper up solution took too long to brew for all seven of us. Disgusting stuff," she concludes with a scrunched up face. A smile escapes me as we sit in silence again until she finally points out, "I think I asked the last question."

Taking the hint, I think for a moment before asking, "Have you thought anymore about what you want to do after Hogwarts?"

Her face darkens as she shifts in her seat uncomfortably. "No," is her only response. I give her a hard look to press her for more information. It works because she admits, "I figured I'll just see what I get on my N.E.W.T.S. and then decide from there. And I _am_ trying to study for them, but I can't really concentrate right now. This whole appointment with the Ministry is just stressing me out."

I examine her face for the typical signs of lying- averted eyes, shallow breathing, unnecessary fidgeting. For a brief second, I reach out and touch the edge of her mind. But there is no emotion other than sincerity and apprehension. It becomes clear that she is waiting for me push the issue further, but I decide to accept her answer and give her a nod.

"Did you always want to be a Potion's Master?" She asks with obvious relief that I let it go.

"I thought it was obvious that I was aiming to become the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher for the last several years," I reply dryly. "It seems that any observer would conclude that becoming a Potion's teacher was merely the career choice I had to fall back on."

"Well, yes," she corrects herself. "I think you did a good job making everyone _believe_ you wanted the D.A.D.A. position, but being a Potion's Master is not an easy thing to do and seems like a lot of trouble if it was just a 'fall back' position. And I know you were good at it when you were in school. I mean, I saw the notes in your potion's book and heard about how perfect Harry's potions turned out when he followed your suggestions. I would be stupid to believe that you weren't at least a little passionate about it to some degree. Maybe it was your second choice of a career, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't the right choice."

 _Clever girl_ , I think to myself. Although I am still infuriated at Potter stealing my work to fool Slughorn into thinking he was a genius in his sixth year, it does give me a secret satisfaction that not everyone was fooled by his ruse. Knowing what my next question is going to be, I go ahead and give her the truthful answer in return.

"I am sorry to disappoint, but becoming a Potion's Master was never my first, second, or even third career choice. There were many other career options that I thought of pursuing besides teaching. However, when it became clear that I my career was navigated directly back to the very school I just left, I decided to completely devote myself to the art of potion making as a distraction. If I couldn't have a job I wanted, it only made sense to be the best at the one I had. I suppose you are correct in your assumption that I have always had an interest in potion making, but not nearly as much as everyone thought."

Although I do not care for student gossip, I am well aware of their speculations over the years as I watched teacher after teacher fail at a position I relished. In hindsight, Albus was right to keep me away from the position for so long, but that doesn't mean I still didn't hold a grudge anyway. However, I have no regrets about pushing myself to become a Potion's Master. If anything, it is just one more way to prove to the world how valuable Severus Snape really is. What I lack in charisma, I make up for in my expertise of such a limited field.

I let her mull it over for a moment before clearing my throat and asking my question. "Do you know what happened to my old Potion's book?" The sentimental part of me is still cursing that I let it fall into Potter's hands, but another part of me would be happy if it never saw the light of day again.

She shrugs apologetically. "Harry got rid of it after he cursed Malfoy. I think he destroyed it. It was a rough year for him so he probably thought it was some kind of evil device being used to try to get into his head." Her gaze drops and she shifts in her seat. "Like Tom Riddle's diary did to me," she mutters under her breath.

For a split second, the memory of her first year flashes on her face and I can see the pain and shame trying to be covered up. Even though she was only eleven at the time, I do remember the terrified little girl in the hospital wing turning crimson with mortification as Poppy and I examined her after the ordeal. It is amazing that even after all these years it haunts her. Then again, I have no room to talk about trying to keep one's mistakes in the past.

"Yes," I clear my throat loudly. "Well, it may not have been an incarnation of evil, but it was certainly more dangerous than a pygmy puff. Destroying it was probably for the best in the long run."

"I don't know," she argues softly. "You obviously put a lot of time and energy into working on those potions and spells. Aren't you a little disappointed that you lost all your work?"

"If I had actually lost it," I smirk knowingly. She frowns in confusion, so I explain. "At the time I came up with those ideas, my book was the economical and logical solution to writing scroll upon scroll of parchment of my notes. Many of my school books were in a similar condition. When I finally left Hogwarts, I transferred the important notes into journals for future reference. I suppose the only thing I lost was more of along the lines of sentiment than anything else."

For the first time tonight, she laughs out loud. "Clever," she compliments. Then adds, "It's your turn to ask a question, Sir."

"Ginevra," I address her, "Is there some reason that you refuse to use my given name? It was, after all, your idea." A blush creeps across her face as she smiles apologetically.

"When I suggested it, I was just thinking about how awkward it was for you to still call me 'Miss Weasley'. I assumed you didn't want me to be disrespectful by calling you anything other than 'Sir' or 'Professor'. Besides, it doesn't sound right to call you… Severus." I expected her to say my name with a hint of disgust or disdain, but all I hear is reverence in her voice.

"I think it is only fair that I extend the same courtesy of allowing you to call me by first name in the privacy of our quarters," I explain before stopping briefly. It is a strange feeling to call it "our quarters", but I brush it off as a slip of the tongue and continue on. "I have no issue with you calling me Severus as I have taken the liberty of calling you Ginevra. However, you are welcome to continue to use 'Sir' or 'Professor' if you do not feel comfortable using my given name."

"No, I," she stutters, "I just, I think it might take some time, or practice, to get use to saying it. But thank you for clarifying that, Severus." She says my name again, but this time with more confidence. It is a sweet hissing as she says it and I suddenly understand how odd it does sound coming from her. However, she adds a smile as if to prove her resolve.

We finish up dinner and begin clearing the table. After thanking me again for cooking again, she starts to leave the kitchen, but then stops short and turns back.

"Severus?" I look up from sending the cleaned plates back to the cabinet. "I know you told me not to worry about it, but I can't stop thinking about our interview with the Ministry next week." She looks down in shame as if waiting to be reprimanded. Against my better judgement, I take pity on the girl.

"Ginevra, _you_ have nothing to worry about," I stress to her. "If you are worried about confessing your sins to a stranger, then I will insist upon a privacy charm cast upon the session if one is not already required."

Her mouth drops open briefly in shock, but then she closes it as I glare at her lack of control. Quickly, she nods, but my words don't seem to set her mind at ease.

Merlin knows what possessed me to reassure her in the first place, but then I simply couldn't resist adding, "It would be unwise for any person, Ministry or otherwise, to make a disparaging comment about you in front of me. I do not tolerate insolence from others, even if they work for the Minister himself."

Suddenly, her body visibly relaxes and she even gives me a soft smile. "Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it," she says quietly before turning and leaving the kitchen.

I listen to her footsteps retreating down the hall to her room before I finally let out the breath I was holding and collapse back in my chair. Running my hand across my face, I realize how utterly foolish I just sounded an curse myself under my breath.

When did I turn into such a Hufflepuff?

No, when did I turn into a Gryffindor?


	31. Chapter 31

The waiting room for the Department of Magical Unions is unusually hot compared to the other floors and smells like the musky padded chairs and stale odor of people who have been waiting too long. It reminds me of the night my father was nearly killed by Voldemort's snake. That night at Grimmauld Place was just as silent and just as frightening as this place is.

"Stop fidgeting!" The low hiss breaks me out of my nervous twitching. I look up in defiance and glare. We agreed before hand that it would seem strange if I didn't call him Severus or husband in front of the Ministry Officials, but he is making it extremely difficult to even think of calling him anything but Snape right now.

Just as I start to reply back, a bored voice calls across the room, "Mr. and Mrs. Severus Snape!"

We both look up to see a squat witch, probably in her late fifties, with curly greying hair framing a round, pudgy face. We stand together and she motions for us to follow down the long corridor in a single file line, me in the middle and Snape on my heels. Holding the door for us, we enter a room very reminiscent of the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

There are beds lining the walls with curtains to create the illusion of rooms. She leads us to the far corner of the room with two empty beds covered in crisp white sheets and a hospital gown laid out at the foot of each. Snape looks as disinterested as he always does, so I try to keep my face from showing any emotion as well.

"Thank you for coming today," she greets us once the curtain is closed and a silencing spell is cast. "As you can tell from your summons, I am Euphagia Williams, your Ministry appointed official. Now then, the first portion of your exam will be the physical health inspection. The medical history forms are under the gowns. Please change and fill out the questionaires. I'll be back in a few minutes with our healers."

She gives a perky smile and leaves through the curtained entrance. Panic starts to set in as I realize there is no curtain dividing our beds, no partition to shield his view of my body.

"I'm not changing in front of you," I whisper backing into the corner of the curtain. "I don't care if we are married, I'm not doing it."

Snape rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist. From the floor, a thin wall paper wall rises up to the ceiling between the two beds. With Snape on the other side, I can only see a blurry shadow moving, but I can hear the rustle of his movements as he says, "When you are finished, I will take the wall down."

Not wanting him to take the privacy wall down while I'm half naked, I strip off my jumper, shoes, socks, and pants and throw the gown over my head as quick as I can manage without tripping over myself. Once finished, I call let him know I am done, but he keeps the wall up. Figuring he is still changing, I settle onto the bed to start filling out the forms.

It doesn't take long for me to realize that most of the form is filled out with injuries and medical treatments that I received from Hogwarts, including my stint in the hospital wing from first year. I can only hope these officials are not interested in dragging up that awful memory. Today will be difficult enough without having to bring up Tom Riddle's diary again.

The last part of the form is more recent medical history questions like what type of diet I partake in or if there are any medical treatments I have received that may not have been recorded. Most are boring, but the last few make my stomach twist unnaturally:

_How long does your monthly cycle typically last? Is it irregular? How often do you engage in sexual intercourse? Do you engage in intercourse during times of ovulation? How often do you orgasm during intercourse?_

Yes, I was warned about these kind of questions, but seeing my own handwritten answers makes me feel kind of violated. These aren't even things I talk to Hermione about. I feel nauseous at the thought of them reading my answers out loud in front of Snape. There's no doubt he has picked up on the regularity of my cycles or knows that sex is far from pleasurable for me, but that doesn't mean I want someone to read it back to him.

Then an even worse feeling strikes me- am I supposed to recount my time with Harry? I have never had an orgasm in front my own husband, but I am pretty sure I did with Harry. Why do they even need this information? I finally decide the Ministry wants to know about my sex life with my "Ministry Approved" sex partner, so I write _Never_ in the blank next to the last question.

Footsteps outside of the curtain and the air shifting as the paper wall disappears, sends me back into my fidgeting state. I glance over and scowl at Snape. Other than his billowing teaching robes folded neatly by his side, he is still completely dressed. The white gown is still at the end of the bed with the clipboard lying on top like he is finished. It shouldn't surprise me that Snape wouldn't comply, but I wonder what will happen.

"Mr. Snape," Ms. Williams says entering the room. "You have not changed, do you need more time?"

"I would prefer to remain comfortable during this examination," he states. My eyes widen and I shoot a worried look at Ms. Williams. Instead of being annoyed, she just nods.

"Of course, Sir," she smiles sweetly. "But be aware that it may make the examination take slightly longer." He simply nods in agreement.

Before I can argue that he should have to wear the hospital gown as well, two healers enter the room behind her and with floating clipboards trailing after them. Ms. Williams picks up the medical forms and leaves as one of the healers move to my bed and the other moves to Snape's where they immediately begin waving their wands with diagnostic spells and incantations.

There isn't much sound coming from anyone other than the random request to take a deep breath or to hold out an arm. My eyes dart back and forth between the healer tapping his wand on various my body parts and the clipboard he takes notes on. Snape remains on the edge of his bed perfectly still as the healer waves his wand over him. I keep wondering what the notes they are writing actually say.

"Mrs. Snape," the healer calls my attention. "Please lie back and bend your knees." I start to lean back, but see his hands begin to lift the hem of my gown.

Shrinking away from his touch, I practically screech, "What are you doing?"

"Please relax, Mrs. Snape," he says in a serene tone. "There is nothing to be afraid of. This is all standard procedure." He starts to push my shoulders back, but I slap his hands away.

"Mrs. Snape-" he starts to say, but is cut off.

"Excuse me," Snape interrupts. All eyes look at him and I know he is about to give me some scathing comment about acting so childish. I brace myself as he continues. "My wife is a little shy. Perhaps a blanket to cover her modesty would make her more comfortable?"

Too shocked at his rescuing words, I nod in agreement as the healer turns and looks at me. He looks a little confused, but then snaps his fingers as the sheet is pulled from underneath me and laid across my lap. "Better?"

"Er," I hesitate and look at Snape whose eyebrows are raised in question. I want to ask if Snape has to be there, but I don't get the chance. Snape stands up and moves to the other side of his bed, placing his back towards me. Relieved, but still a little anxious, I lay back and mutter, "It's fine."

As the healer reaches under the blanket, I keep my eyes trained on the healer working with Snape. I can feel warm hands slide my knickers down, so I focus my attention on Snape's back and try not to feel gloved fingers feeling around inside me. It is strange that I've had sex every week for the last three months, but this feels even more intrusive than our duties.

Minutes seem to creep by as the healer performs incantations on my nether regions and continues to take notes on his clipboard. Snape sits perfectly still as the healer in front of him speaks.

"Mr. Snape," his healer addresses him in a quiet tone. "If you would?" He makes some motion, but Snape is blocking my view. I watch his hands move to his front and realize what the healer was asking. There is a slight rustle as Snape holds the front of his clothing open at his chest, but the curtain black fabric shields me from seeing any skin.

The healer inspects what I can only assume is his scar from Voldemort's snake. It suddenly strikes me that I have not seen his scar since Harry and I visited him in St. Mungo's when it was still an open wound. In fact, come to think of it, I haven't actually seen any of his skin except his face and hands. It's almost funny to know the healer has seen more of my husband than I have.

Clearing his voice, the healer between my legs replaces the blanket and instructs me to sit back up. Spotting my forgotten knickers, I snatch them up in embarrassment. Unsure if I am allowed to put them back on, I slide them under the blanket next to me. Both healers finish the last of the examination and vanish the floating clipboards.

As they leave, Ms. Williams enters the room. "Thank you both for your patience. The physical portion of the examination is almost complete and then we will move down the hall for the psychological evaluation. Mr. Snape," she pulls a small plastic cup from the pocket of her robes and holds it out for him to take, "Once you have left us a sample and your wife has redressed, I will be outside the curtain to escort you to my office."

"And what exactly will you be testing my urine for?" Snape asks as he reaches for the cup.

"Urine?" she laughs. I can see Snape's jaw clench as she says, "No, dear, we need a sample of your sperm. Your wife is welcome to help you, but we do ask to perform a cleansing charm before completion in order to prevent contamination of the sample."

He blanches and my eyes go wide as I scoot farther back onto the bed. It would only take a second for this woman to be hexed and I personally don't want to be in the way. But he just takes a deep breath like a bull about to charge.

"I can assure you there will be no contamination," he grinds out through gritted teeth.

"Just leave it on the bed when you are finished," Ms. Williams flashes another sweet smile coupled with a wink and exits the room.

I start to voice my refusal to "help", but the paper wall comes back up and I feel a silencing spell surround his side of the wall. Relieved, I throw on my clothes at lightening speed and wonder if I should leave the room all together.

The thought of him masturbating only a few feet away makes me feel like a voyeur, but if I leave, then I'll have to stand outside the room with Ms. Williams. The thought of sharing an awkward silence with her or trying to have an equally awkward conversation when we both know what is going on in here convinces me to wait on my bed for the paper wall to come down.

With the only the sound of my breathing to focus on, my mind wanders to the other side of the wall. Growing up with so many brothers, I have seen my fair share of boys playing with themselves. In fact, I have even walked in once or twice on my own parents. Even as emotionally scarring as that was, all those instances seem so trivial now compared to the thought of Snape in any sexual manner.

For a second the image pops into my mind- robes pushed apart, cock in hand with the other steadying himself on the edge of the mattress, his back slightly hunched over as he pumping furiously into the clear plastic cup. I wonder what he thinks about…

_Ewww. No. Stop._ I shake the picture out of my head. Everyone knows he loved Harry's mom. I bet he thinks about her when he has to fuck me too. That realization makes me feel even more disgusted than imagining him having a wank.

The wall suddenly disappears, startling me out of my private thoughts and drawing my attention to him. His breathing is slightly labored and if I didn't know any better, I'd think his cheeks had more color than they usually did. My eyes are immediately drawn to the bed in search of his ejaculate filled cup, but he steps into my line of view.

"I assume you are ready to go?" His tone is laced with warning, as if daring me to comment. He knows me too well because I quickly look away with embarrassment and just nod.

He opens the curtain for me and gestures to leave first. Ms. Williams is waiting with her gentle smile to lead us down the hall. The physical exam was terrifying enough, but I don't know how I am going to be able to deal with the next part.

* * *

The office is stifling compared to the hospital type room we were just in. Staying focused, I spot the two vials of Veritaserum on the desk as the ladies take their seats first. My wife visibly flinches as the door slams and the wards set, but I keep my face unreadable and sit smoothly.

Our physical examination was easy enough, but I was prepared. At least, more prepared than my wife was. I'm not quite sure what she thought a "physical examination" would entail, but there was no way on this green earth I was going to watch a healer spread her legs in front of me, even if I am her husband. The blanket was the least I could do.

And thank Merlin I brought the quick release potion. I assumed they would ask me to provide a sample of my sperm, but I am surprised the woman suggested she stay to "help me out". How utterly inappropriate!

However, I do find it curious that the girl waited for me to finish. Never in my life have I been so thankful to have remembered a silencing charm. It is bad enough the girl has to listen to me orgasm when I am on top of her, but to have her listen to me pleasure myself like some teenage boy would be completely unbearable.

Ms. Williams clears her throat, pulling me back to this little interrogation room. Her sickly sweet smile is very reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge and if I didn't know any better, I'd think it was her. But I don't have time to focus on such trivial matters. If I am going to get through this, I need to concentrate all my energy on the task at hand.

Although no one is immune to Veritaserum, Occlumency is a resource to use when trying to maintain some semblance of secrecy. With my mind firmly closed off to the rest of the world, I can concentrate completely on her questions and come up with an answer to satisfy the questions in the simplest way possible.

"Your physical examination results will be arriving shortly, so we will start with a few simple questions to get started," the older woman explains. "If you would please drink your vials, then we can begin."

"I assume there is a privacy charm cast on this session?" I ask quickly. Ginevra lets out a breath of relief, but the Williams woman looks taken aback.

"Of course," she forces out, clearly disappointed. She waves her wand and mutters the charm. I feel the magic wash over the room as she says, "There. Now, all conversations and notes cannot be shared with any other person unless you or your wife is present." Ms. Williams tries to give another innocent smile, but I can see right through it.

I down my vial instantly, but my wife looks hesitant as she fingers the bottle gingerly. Spotting my glare, she reconsiders her approach and swallows it in one gulp. There is no taste, but I do watch her shiver as her eyes become dilated and unfocused. I can feel the effects as well, but years of practice keeps me from displaying my hazy state so openly.

"Wonderful," she smirks. "Now, let's start with something simple. How often do you engage in intercourse?"

"Once a week," we both answer together, though her answer comes out much quicker. To keep the serum from clouding my mind, I add, "On Saturday evenings." She looks pleased with the results of the potion and begins taking notes.

"Do either of you take fertility potions?"

"No," comes the unified answer.

"You are a potions master?" She directs her question at me alone and I can see my wife visibly relax at the brief reprieve. Her question is more of a statement, so I wait for her to expand. "Why have you not brewed some for you or your wife?"

"I am positive the pair of us are fertile enough for the task," I tell her with confidence. "Unless you have results that state otherwise, I think a fertility potion would exponentially increase the likelihood of my wife carrying twins or even triplets. Since this would be our first child and my wife's family does have a history of favorable fertility, it seemed unnecessary."

"Is that true?" She turns her attention back to the girl.

"My parents had seven children including a set of twins. My mum and dad both come from large families. I have an uncle who has six children and and aunt on my mother's side who has two sets of twins as well," she spits out with rapid speed. She blinks several times as if surprised the answers came forth so easily. I am surprised, but only because I had no idea just how many Weasley's there were in her family.

Satisfied with the explanation, she scratches her notes on her parchment and resumes her questioning.

"And what sexual positions do you engage in?"

"Him on top," she blushes. Struggling not to roll my eyes, I answer, "Missionary."

"Very good, especially for reproductive purposes," she agrees as she scribbles some more. "And you both orgasm?"

"I, uh, well…"

"I do as required by the law," I finish in a loud tone for her. She is an unnaturally and unhealthy shade of red. I know the question that is coming next so I go ahead and expand my answer before the Veritaserum causes me embarrassment. "Our duties are still very new for the both of us, but especially for my wife since she was a virgin when we married. Keeping our interactions short and to the point seem to keep the stress of the entire situation to a minimum."

"Oh dear," Ms. Williams clicks her tongue in disapproval. "You seem to be well versed in the matter, Mr. Snape. I am sure you are aware that a female orgasm is thought to be helpful in conception?"

I can feel my face grimace as I give a jerk of my head to confirm. I can feel the girl tense beside me.

"Then are you purposely trying to circumvent the procreation portion of this law by refusing to use a technique that could help with such a purpose?" A sickly sweet smile crosses her face like a cat about to get the cream. She is trying corner me into revealing something incriminating, so I focus on the wording of the question and chose my answer carefully.

"My refusal to use a technique is not about circumventing the law." The words are slow to come out, but release from my mouth easily enough. Technically, it is the truth, so the serum can't prevent me from saying it. "The dynamics between us are still very unusual since our prior relationship was that of a student and a teacher. We still have much to learn from one another before we begin such engage in such experimentation."

Ms. Williams looks visibly perturbed by my diplomatic answer, but she has no other choice than to trust the serum. Miss Weasley still looks mortified, but she does give me a thankful smile in return. It suddenly occurs to me that I just saved her from revealing her own dirty little secret of having an orgasm with Potter. If the Veritaserum wasn't so strong, I would feel disgust at the memory. Instead, I focus on reinforcing my mental walls and waiting for the next question.

But the floo in her office suddenly flares green and large envelope shoots onto her desk, giving me a moment of peace. As she opens the contents, which is no doubt our medical results, she asks, "Mrs. Snape, have you been taking contraceptive potions?"

"No," she shakes her head. There is a confusion in her eyes as she watches Ms. Williams look over the top of the papers with suspicion.

"And you?" She addresses me. "Have you been secretly providing contraception to your wife without her knowledge?" I let a sigh of relief escape knowing that her second question just saved me.

"Of course not," I reply with confidence. "That is illegal."

"Indeed it is," she agrees. That nasty smile comes back as she continues, "I suppose your inability to conceive for so long is just back luck, right?"

I don't trust myself to respond, but somehow the girl senses my hesitation and jumps in. "Yes, it does seem curious since we have certainly done it on some of my most fertile days," she says innocently enough. "I am the only girl in seven generations of my family, so there must be something wrong with me. Is that what the report says?"

"Oh, dear me, don't be silly," she chides. "You are both perfectly healthy. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your reproductive systems. In fact, according to this, you are actually at the very early stages of pregnancy. Looks like you are only a few weeks, but the magic never lies..."

* * *

Time stops. Or was that just my breathing?

My heart pounds in my ears, but the world is mute.

Pure panic seeps through me. Instinctively, I grab my stomach and look down as if it were already swollen. My stomach is as flat as it has always been, but it feels like it is on fire. No, that is my face.

Gasping for air, I look up at Snape. His lips are pursed, but the rest of his face is contorted in the strangest expression I've ever seen. It's like shock, panic, anger, and disbelief are fighting to show, but his normally unreadable face is losing the battle to reveal a little bit of each.

"Mrs. Snape," calls a voice, breaking me out of my thoughts. I startle and look around to see Ms. Williams giving me her warm smile. "Are you listening?"

"No," I automatically answer. The Veritaserum has made everything fuzzy up until this point, but my quick responses must mean it is still in effect.

"I was just explaining to your husband that you probably haven't even miss your monthly cycle yet which is why you haven't told him yet. Am I correct?"

The calendar in my nightstand flashes in my mind as I try to calculate my cycle. Mentally, I picture today's date in my head and where it would fall on the calendar. Actually, now that I think about it…

"I didn't notice I was late until just now," the words slip out unexpectedly. The two of them stare at me, Snape in quiet disbelief and Ms. Williams with her motherly smile.

"Well, I'm sure this appointment just caused it to slip your mind," she says kindly trying to reassure me. "I guess you were right about feeling that it would just happen at the right time," she addresses Snape.

He doesn't even tear his eyes from me as he says, "Indeed."

"My dear, you are so very lucky," Ms. Williams coos back at me. "It must be such a relief to know you have one of the world's greatest Potioneers at your fingertips to brew you fresh prenatal potions or anti nausea potions for morning sickness."

"I guess," is all I can say.

"I was about to recommend fertility treatment, but this new information does change things a bit," she continues on. "However, you two are not on the right track to have a child. Given your answers today, I feel that there is still a lot of work to be done on your relationship before this child arrives. Hopefully, by your next session, this child will help the two of you become much more unified. At the next appointment, if the relationship between the two of you has not progressed into a closer partnership, I will enforce mandatory therapy until the child is born. If there is still no progress to be made, then we will have no choice but to remove the child from your home."

My stomach twists into a tight knot and I feel my breath catch in my throat as tears blur my vision. It was only seconds ago that I find out I'm pregnant, and now she is talking about taking my baby away. I don't know what I am supposed to say or do, so I just sit there in silence hoping this will be over soon.

Snape and Ms. Williams talk for a few minutes, but I can't seem to understand the words they are saying. I stare dumbly back. Every once in awhile she looks in my direction, so I nod and give a weak smile in hopes she doesn't ask me anything else. Once they finish, Ms. Williams gives her kind smile and stands with her hand out to me. It's like someone cast an Imperius Curse on me because I mechanically shake her hand after Snape does and follow him back through the Ministry to the street.

He grabs my arm and I feel the tug of Apparition rip me through space and time. We land roughly and the sickening feeling overtakes me immediately. I drop to all fours and vomit in the grass, narrowly missing Snape's feet. There is no doubt in my mind he is making some snide comment or reprimanding me for acting like a child, but every sound of the world is drowned out as I fight for my breath.

When my stomach finally settles, I see him holding a clean white handkerchief out. I know I should take it, but instead, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stagger to my feet. Pushing his arm out of the way, I stumble past him trying to regain my balance. His hand grips my arm, almost painfully as he mutters, "Stop fighting me."

"Let go," I yank my arm away. He reaches for me again, but I start to run toward the school. Somehow my feet carry me not to Hermione like I wanted, but to the dungeons. I drop the wards and flee to my room.

I need time to think.


	32. Chapter 32

I rush to my private lab and ward the door. Finding the last batch of sperm inhibitor, I take large swig along with another dose of my quick release potion. There is only one way to know for sure if I have failed.

Parting my robes and sliding my pants just below my hips, I stroke my cock into submission. I focus on the pleasure of my release in hopes that it will wipe out the sound of Ms. Williams' words replaying over and over in my head. Sweat drips from my brow and my breathing becomes labored as the climax finally releases into the jar I grabbed from my work bench.

Hunched over the table in exhaustion, I adjust my clothes and catch my breath. When I finally calm my body and my mind, I straighten up and pull my wand out. Closing my eyes, I cast the spell that will tell me how effective my sperm inhibitor is.

It only takes a few seconds for the wispy trail of grey to encircle the liquid and hover above it like a gloomy cloud. It molds itself into a single shape- the round oval of the number zero. My potion is perfect.

She is carrying Potter's child.

* * *

There is nothing like a long hot shower after terrible day. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to help today.

Merlin knows how long I stood in the shower, rubbing my flat stomach and repeating the words over and over in my head. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant.

I suppose this is what if feels like to go into shock. Everything is numb. I can't cry or get angry or even think straight. The meeting at the Ministry plays over and over in my head, but each time it gets less and less real.

When I finally get out, I lay on my bed and stare at the stone ceiling. I must have stayed like that for hours because by the time I sat up, my hair was almost completely dry. It normally wouldn't matter except that I was supposed to have dinner with Snape. No, I can't call the father of my baby by his last name. Severus. I was supposed to have dinner with Severus.

Knowing that he is probably infuriated that I skipped dinner without warning, I dress in my pajamas to see if I can find him somewhere in our chambers. I check the kitchen and the study quickly, but the light under the door tells me he is working in his lab. It takes me a minute to decide if I should try to disturb him or not. Finally, I knock.

A muffled sound comes from the other side as if he is merely responding but not inviting me in. I take a chance and push the door open a few inches to peer in.

He stands over a cauldron stirring slowly in a wide circle. There is a look of concentration on his face like he maybe counting, so I decide that maybe he is too busy right now. As I start to leave, he calls out for me.

"Is there something you need, Miss Weasley?" His tone is unemotional, but the use of my former name sends a nervous shiver down my spine. If I stay, I might be in for our first argument in weeks. But if I leave, it could be ten times worse when I finally face him again. Determined to prove myself, I stand my ground and step inside the lab.

"I just wanted to apologize for missing dinner tonight," I say. "I'm still trying to process everything and I just lost track of time."

"You did not miss anything. I did not cook tonight," he replies curtly.

"Oh," is all I can manage. "I'm sorry." He looks up from the cauldron as he continues to stir as his brow furrows in slight confusion.

"For?"

"Getting pregnant?" Even as the words leave my mouth, I don't know why I am apologizing. It wasn't like I did this to myself, but voicing that opinion would not be wise.

"That was the entire point of this marriage, was it not?" I nod in response. "Then what reason could you have to be sorry?"

"I don't know," I answer, still completely baffled at his mood. He gives no indication of what he is thinking, so I ask, "Are you mad or something?"

"And what reason would I have to be angry?"

"I don't know," I say again, barely keeping the frustration out of my voice. "Because I didn't know about it sooner?"

"I'm sure you would have realized next Saturday when your cycle still hadn't started," he replies. It is true. We had to change this week's duties to Monday because I thought I would be in the middle of my cycle tomorrow. I still don't know how I didn't realize I was so late.

I wrack my brain trying to figure out why he is treating me like this before it hits me that he is just as shocked about the news as I am. Unsure of what to say, I ask, "So what now?"

He drops his eyes back to the potion he is stirring and says nothing for a long time. Finally, he lets out a long sigh and points at a small black box sitting on the end of the table closest to me. Slowly, I cross the room and open the box to find vials of potion neatly lined up inside the box.

"Prenatal potion," he answers without looking up. "One vial a day. It will be another two weeks before this batch of anti-nausea potion is finished, so you will have to go to the infirmary for a potion if you start feeling… symptoms." We both know he was going to say morning sickness, but it still sounds too bizarre for either of us to admit.

"Thank you," I say weakly.

"You will need to see Madame Pomfrey as soon as possible for a check up," he continues. "The Headmistress will need to be notified of your condition as well-"

"Why?" The question escapes me and he looks perturbed at the interruption.

"Because you are still a student at this school," he answers in an icy tone. "Even if you weren't, the Headmistress is still my boss. If you are unwilling to speak to her about the situation, then you will leave me no choice but to tell her."

"I'll talk to her," I agree quickly trying to keep his anger at bay. "I just wanted to tell my family first."

"I think this kind of news should not be owled," he states. I must look confused because he adds, "Aren't you staying at Hogwarts for the holidays?"

I shrug. "I guess not anymore."

"Then you have until the new year to inform the Headmistress." His tone leaves no room for argument.

"Do you want to… er, I mean, are you going to come with me?" I ask hesitantly.

"I'm sure you can deliver the news to your family without my assistance."

"No, I meant to the appointment with Madame Pomfrey," I clarify. He frowns as if I just suggested something completely unheard of, so I quickly add, "Or not. I just thought with it being our first-"

He holds his hand up to cut me off and says in a loud voice, "No, thank you." I am a little taken back by this swift and abruptness, but I guess that is just the way he is when he is uncomfortable.

I stand there trying to figure out what to say next, but he beats me to it by saying, "If that is all you need, I have work to get back to."

Although he has not stopped working since I came in, his dismissal makes it clear that our conversation needs to end before it only gets worse. Relieved but still confused about his attitude, I nod and take the box of potions.

"Ginevra," he calls out as I start to open the door, so I turn around slowly. He is still stirring the potion, but his eyes are boring into me like he is trying to read my thoughts. The thought crosses my mind to look away, but then I decide that if he is reading my mind, then he should see my confusion, my fear, my anxiety. So, I force myself to keep my eyes from breaking contact.

For a second, he seems like he is going to say something, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he looks back down at his potion and mutters, "Good luck."

I have no idea how to respond, so I just say, "Thanks," and leave.

* * *

"Severus," Narcissa greets in surprise as I step through the fireplace. As I dust off my robes, I look around for Lucius, but he is nowhere to be found. "One of Lucius business associates owled with some kind of emergency," she answers before I can ask. "He should be back shortly, so I told him I would keep you entertained until then."

I reach for the floo powder. "Forgive me. I'll just come back when he is back."

"Nonsense," she exclaims slapping my hand away. "Come now. Have a seat and let me make you a drink. We haven't spoken in over a month."

She gestures to the chairs nearby and moves to fix me a cocktail. I give her a grateful smile and take my place. It doesn't take long before a strong scotch is placed in my hand. Taking a drink, I recognize the smooth taste of an 1890 Ogden's.

"Dear me, Narcissa. If Lucius knows you are giving away his best scotch, he may never ask you to entertain guests again," I tease.

"You aren't a guest, you are family," she reminds me. "Speaking of which, I assume you will be joining us for the holidays?" I nod in agreement, so she follows up with, "The full two weeks?"

"A room will not be necessary," I correct her. "I will be here for Christmas dinner and the New Year's party, but I will floo over from the school."

"I see," she answered with a hint of disappointment in her voice. Then, almost hopeful, she asks, "Does that mean you will be bringing your lovely wife as well?"

I can't help the sigh that escapes me. "I will pass along the invitation," I reply diplomatically.

"Oh, Severus," she shakes her head. Before she can respond, the fireplace flares green and Lucius steps through.

"Hello, darling," Lucius greets his wife with a quick peck on the cheek before facing me. "Severus."

"Lucius," I nod back. His eyes immediately move from me to Narcissa and back again with a slight frown.

"Is something wrong?" He asks with concern. Like the perfect hostess sensing what her guests need, Narcissa clears her throat and excuses herself. A look passes between them that makes me feel slightly nauseous with jealousy. The minute the door shut behind her, he turns back with an expectant look.

"Ginevra is pregnant."

It sounds like someone as I utter those three little loaded words. Lucius starts to smile, but the look on my face made him think better of it. Instead, he raises his eyebrows and picks up the glass his wife was previously drinking. "When did you find out?"

"Earlier this week at our meeting with the Ministry Official."

"I take it that this news was the most interesting part of the interview?" I narrow my eyes, so he just shrugs and asks, "How do you feel about it?"

That was not the question I was expecting, but I answer anyway. "It is what it is."

"Severus," he draws out my name in irritation. "You obviously came over here to talk about it, so stop being so evasive."

"It's not mine," I blurt out.

At this he actually laughs. "I'm a lot of things, but I am not an idiot," he points out. "You've never wanted children and law or no law, I am almost positive you have done everything to prevent this very situation. Therefore, I could only guess you are either here to confess you have failed as a Potion's Master or you are here because you have no idea what you are going to do with Potter's child and you need some sagely advice. If I were a betting man, I'd place my entire fortune on the latter. Am I right?"

"Potter's child," I repeat in disgust. "Another fucking Potter in the world. Have the fates decided that cheating death warrants this kind of punishment?"

Lucius shrugs. "I won't try to claim to be an expert on the fates, but I do agree it is cruel. Has she told Potter yet?"

"She doesn't know it is his," I answer taking a large swig.

At first, Lucius looks confused until the realization dawns on him. His eyes widen in horror as he whispers, "No."

"Yes," I confirm. "The mistake of her past is now a permanent fixture of her future."

"You have to tell her," he presses.

"And risk the Ministry finding out? Are you under the impression I deserve Azkaban on top of all this?"

"So this is why you are drowning yourself in my whiskey," he sighs as I pour another glass of liquor. "You are conflicted about how to handle this. Am I right?"

"I don't want the child," I confess. "Even if it weren't Potter's and it were someone else's, I don't think I could adopt it as my own. But refusing to claim it will erase all the progress we have made over the last few weeks."

"You could always just be a silent partner to her," he suggests. Before I can remind him that a child is not a business endeavour, he explains. "You give her the financial, moral, physical support she requires, but withhold any emotional support. It will give her the freedom to raise the child as she sees fit as well as having all the child's material needs met. Meanwhile you can have the peace of mind knowing you have once again fulfilled your promise to another red headed woman to take care of a Potter child."

"She'll never go for it," I shake my head. "If she believes that I helped create this child, she will come to resent me for not taking 'complete' responsibility."

"But you would be taking responsibility," he stresses. "Have you demanded she give up her career? Have you left her financially destitute? Have you made it known you wish to be rid of the child?"

"Of course not," I snap. "But the girl grew up in a family of nine with parents who were not arranged. And let's not forget how sentimental Gryffindors not only wear their heart on their sleeves but expect everyone else to as well. Don't you think she'll expect me to conform to her preconceived notions of how this is supposed to be?"

"She might," he agrees, "but you have already made it clear you two are not, nor will you ever have that type of marriage or family."

I start to open my mouth to argue, but quickly shut it before I say too much. However, my brief moment of censorship does not go unnoticed. Lucius freezes with his glass halfway to his mouth as his jaw drops.

"You don't," he starts, then shakes his head in disbelief. "Is that something you want?" My silence confirms his suspicions, so he sets his glass down and leans forward. "Severus, I-"

"Just leave it alone," I cut him off. "I don't have the knowledge nor the energy to even attempt to clarify my own thoughts much less explain it right now."

"Fine," he sits back in surrender. "I won't press this matter further until you are ready, but I do have one thing to say and I am only going to say it once. If you want to move into something more than this 'civilized partnership', then I strongly suggest you either tell her the truth or make every effort to accept this child as your own."

There it is. He has voiced the very problem I am facing. Truthfully, there is a part of me that does want to learn to love Ginevra. In fact, there is a part of me that wants to receive that same love in return. Rejecting Ginevra's child would be a step in the wrong direction, but how can I accept Potter's spawn as my own? If she knew the truth, then she could possibly understand why this is so difficult for me. But the truth puts us both at risk for Azkaban, possibly even at risk for the child being taken away from her. I do not want the child, but it certainly isn't my place to separate any child from its mother...

My head begins to pound, so I set my glass on the end table and rub my temples. Lucius leans across and places a hand on my shoulder.

"I really am sorry this is so fucked up," he says with a sincerity I haven't heard for a long time. "You deserve to be happy."

I can't help but scoff at his comment. "No," I admit, "if I had just done or been better from the start, none of this would have happened."

"You don't know that," Lucius argued. "I suppose the only silver lining here is that you have the next eight months to find a solution. It is a better deadline than when you were required to find a wife, so I suggest that this time, you actually use the months to weigh your options before making a final decision."

As much as I want to roll my eyes, all I can do is nod in agreement at his astute observation.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Weasley. Oh, pardon me, I mean Snape," Madame Pomphrey greets me warmly as I step into the hospital wing. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I, uh," the words escape as a stutter, "I just found out, or last week really, I, well, am going tohaveababy." My face flushes as the last words come out in a jumbled mess.

Madame Pomfrey's extra bright smile fades slightly as a more sympathetic tone fills her voice. "Ah, yes, Severus informed me that you would be visiting as some point."

"He told you?"

"Oh, dear me, no," she shook her head. "He didn't give a reason why, just that you needed a consultation for some medical issue. This was not the consultation I was expecting, but I suppose a congratulations is in order anyway."

"Thanks," I say. We stand in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, before she finally snaps back to her usual self.

"Well, go to last bed on the right and put the gown on," she points across the way.

It doesn't take long before Madame Pomfrey is standing over me waving her wand and muttering her diagnostic spells. Once finished, she frowns slightly and begins writing on a clipboard.

"I have confirmed you are most definitely pregnant, looks like six weeks to be exact," she rattles off. "You are in excellent health, but I will recommend some prenatal potions-"

"I have been taking them the last two weeks," I put in. Madame Pomfrey looks up in surprise, so I explain, "Profess- er, my husband," I start awkwardly, "gave me some the day we found out. He said he didn't have any anti-nausea potion though."

She looks slightly relieved as she replies, "Is that so? Well, are you experiencing any nausea or morning sickness? Loss of appetite? Sensitivity to certain foods or smell?"

"Uh, no, or yes. I don't know. Maybe a little? Why?"

"You had a physical at the beginning of the term for Quidditch tryouts, but it looks like you have lost nearly a stone since then," she explains. "While you are not vitamin deficient, this weight loss is concerning. Babies need calories to grow."

I think back to the last couple of weeks. Hermione has noticed my loss of appetite, but has had the good grace not to mention it until we were in private. I think she knows, but I have yet to tell her. On the nights I eat in the dungeons, Snape seems distracted and lost in thought. I feel like he is hiding something, but I am afraid to ask him so we end up in silence for most of dinner.

"I've been stressed about midterm exams," I lie. "I can't really eat when I am nervous, and the last few weeks have been really stressful with the Ministry interview and trying to study for exams."

"Humpf," she hums with a look of disbelief. "Midterms will be over in two days, so I expect you to rest over the holidays. We will schedule an appointment for the first week of the new term, and I expect to see some improvement."

"Yes, ma'am," I mumble half heartedly. There is nothing more I'd rather do than leave right now.

"I am serious," she stresses. "If you will not take care of yourself, I will be forced to either place you on bedrest or have you put on medical rest for the following semester."

My throat goes dry. "Medical rest? As in not being a student?"

"Yes," she says sternly. "Stress in magical births is dangerous. Your magical core will fluctuate and become volatile, your energy will deplete astronomically, there are even risks for birthing a squib."

"But I want to finish my education," I blurt out in a panic. "And we still have the rest of the Quidditch season!"

"Calm down," Madame Pomfrey says placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Like I said, take the next couple of weeks to rest, relax, and gain back some of the weight. I'll do another examination and then we'll go from there. Stressing about it for the next three weeks is not going to help."

"I know," I reply trying to steady my voice. Taking a deep breath, I add, "This is all just so much." Madame Pomfrey gives me a reassuring smile as I rub my face tiredly.

"Trust me, we all think so," she hints. It suddenly occurs to me that I may not be the only pregnant patient under her care since this law has gone into effect. I know she is concerned for my health, so I just nod.

"Thank you," I say trying to sound gracious. "Is that all?"

"I suppose so," she sighs. Continuing to write on her clipboard, she turns and leaves so I can change back into my clothes.

Relax over the holidays? I was more relaxed when the Carrows ran the school and my brother was on the run with Harry. It has been nearly a week since I found out, but it is all I can think about. How am I supposed to relax when my mind won't stop replaying it over and over?

I wish someone would just obliviate me.

* * *

A firm knock echoes through the empty classroom. Checking the clock, I can't help but frown in confusion. My next class isn't for another two hours and Minerva is spending the day at the Ministry to give a speech on the educational amendment to the Marriage Law, so I'm not quite sure who it could be.

"Enter," I bark. I can only hope it is a staff member rather than a student arriving early in a futile attempt at getting into my good graces. Thankfully, Poppy glides in unabashed at my tone.

"Severus," she greets. Stopping in front of my desk, she holds out a sheet of parchment for my perusal. "My report as you requested."

I scan the document quickly until I reach the bottom recommendation. "You are sure she's lost a whole stone?" I ask. Her eyes narrow, so I try a different approach. "I meant you are sure she is not experiencing any sickness that might cause such a dramatic weight loss?"

"Not unless you consider stress a sickness," she quips. "She claims it is stress due to exams, but I have a feeling there is more going on than either of you are going to admit." She gives me a pointed look.

"Thank you for your help, Poppy, I think we are finished here." I try to sound gracious, but even I can hear the irritation in my voice.

As Poppy lets out a huff of disdain, she crosses her arms defensively. "Don't take that tone with me, Severus Snape. You are lucky I am bound by law to give you the results. If you continue to address me in such a fashion, I can easily make sure my report takes several weeks to make it into your hands."

"Forgive me," I apologize. "This whole experience is just…"

"So much, I know," she finishes for me. Surprised at her response, I raise an eyebrow. She gives a gentle smile. "I guess you two are more alike than you think," she answers cryptically.

"Yes, I suppose so," I answer tiredly.

"One more thing," she says as she makes her way to the door. "I want to examine her again the first week of the term. She needs to rest and keep her stress to a minimum." I give her one last nod to agree. Satisfied, she leaves.

I reread Poppy's report more thoroughly. The girl's weight is more than just a little concerning. I have been so involved with debating my choices inside my own head, I have completely failed to notice her hardly eating during our dinners until now. She is obviously having a rough time adjusting to her situation, but how am I supposed to fix that?

The truth is I can't. If anything, I will probably only make it worse if I try. However, I can't sit back and watch her continue to put herself at risk. Knowing I am going to regret it, I pull a clean sheet of parchment out of my drawer and begin writing the only person who might be able to help my wife.


	33. Chapter 33

Severus made dinner after my last exam on Friday. We went through the usual small talk before he began questioning me about my appointment with Madame Pomfrey. I relayed the information about needing to rest and relax. Since I still needed to go home to tell my parents about the baby, he suggested I spend the full break back at home.

At first, I thought maybe he was trying to get rid of me for the holidays. I fervently promised to stay out of his way, but he insisted it was for the best. Then, to my surprise, he offered to come with me. I tried to make an excuse that he should stay at the school since he is a Head of House, but he immediately countered.

"Professor Slughorn is a former Head of House and will be here in case anything happens," he answered. I sighed loudly, unsure of how to voice my real concerns. He seemed to understand because he added, "I will be _civil_ to Potter and I will keep him away from you if that is what you wish. If the news of your pregnancy doesn't go over well with your family, then we will leave immediately."

I couldn't believe my ears as the words came out in the most reassuring tone I have ever heard. Other than his quick pep talk before our meeting with the Ministry official, I cannot name a time when he was so gentle. As much as it caught me off guard, I refocused my attention to the matter at hand and weighed my options.

It is true that I have missed my mother and Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas until we are all sitting in the living room of the Burrow laughing as we unwrapping our sweaters. There is a part of me that fears one of my brothers (most likely Ron), will hex Severus when they find out I am pregnant. However, I have a feeling he would be able to fend for himself. As for Harry, he has kept his promise to give me some space (even though I can feel his eyes boring into me when we are together), so I supposed I shouldn't be too worried about him.

In the end, I decided I would go home but without Severus. I think perhaps it might be good to get away from everything- school, Severus, married life, even if it is just for a few days. He assured me several times he didn't mind me coming alone as long as I promised to come back if things get out of hand or if my anxiety gets worse. I'm not quite sure if he thinks my brother's my hex me for getting knocked up, but I promised anyway and sent a letter to my mother informing her of my plans.

Landing in the apparition point on this cold Sunday morning, I take in the Burrow as I wait for the ground below me to steady. After it was destroyed in the war, my father and brother's worked tirelessly to put our old home back together. Just as before, the multiple additions sat stacked upon each other in a mismatched fashion, but thankfully, my father, had enough sense to reinforce it and straighten it out a bit. The exterior is now straighter and looks far more stable than it use to, but with the original homey feeling.

Deciding the nauseas feeling wasn't going away anytime smooth, I shift my bag on my shoulder and make my way through the garden. The curtains shift in the kitchen window, signalling someone checking to see who arrived. Before I can reach for the doorknob, my mother is in the doorway with her gentle smile. She looks like she did before the war.

"Ginevra," she murmurs into my hair as I lean in to give her a hug. "It's great to have you home. Are you hungry?"

"Not really," I answer as she ushers me inside to the kitchen.

"Maybe just some tea then?" Still feeling queasy, I finally give in and drop my bag to the seat next to me. Mum starts bustling around the kitchen setting up the tea, plating some cakes, and floating it all to the table.

When she finishes and finally sits down, I can't help but say, "You look good, Mum. Happier."

"I don't know about that," she shrugs. "But there is only so much time a person can spend in mourning a son when she has six other children alive and well who need her."

"Mum, I'm fine," I start to say, but she just shakes her head.

"I was talking about Percy and Audrey," she says loudly. I give her a confused look, so she explains. "Audrey is expecting."

My heart beats rapidly as I am reminded of the child growing in my own belly. Trying to keep a straight face, I reply with, "Oh, really? That's great, but what does that have to do with you?"

"With Audrey working such long hours at St. Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward and Percy at the Ministry, they will need someone to watch little Molly," she says with a fond smile.

"Oh, they are having a girl?"

"Yes," Mum answers. "They were going to wait, but Audrey decided she wanted to spend the next six months thinking of names and such."

"Sounds like they already decided on Molly," I point out.

"Yes," she blushes. "I thought it was rather sweet."

"It is," I agree half heartedly. Of course Percy would name his daughter after Mum, nevermind that it is _my_ middle name that I might have wanted to use for my own child.

"So, tell me," she says, taking a small sip of her tea. "What made you decide to come for the holidays? You were so keen on staying at Hogwarts until I got the owl yesterday. Is everything alright?"

"I just felt like coming home," I lie. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

Mum gives narrows my eyes, the same way she use to do when she suspected me of trying to hide something. Thank goodness, I know she isn't a Legilimens or I would be worried.

Before Mum can answer, my stomach growls loudly. She eyes gives a half smile and says, "Are you ready to eat now?"

I start to refuse, but then realize I am actually starving. "Sure," I reply. "Has everyone had breakfast already?"

"Yes. Ron, Hermione, and Harry are spending the day with the Grangers. The rest of your brothers took their wives into Diagon Alley for some last minute Christmas shopping and your father had an emergency at work, but should be back for lunch," she explains.

A sigh of relief escapes me. It will be nice to see everyone, but I am glad I have some time to settle in first. Mum whips up a full English Breakfast in no time and sets it in front of me. For the first time in days, food looks appetizing.

Maybe it was a good idea to come home.

* * *

The table is set for a feast even though only three of us are seated. Ham, roast beef, yams, bread pudding. All my favorites. The Malfoy house elves really out did themselves this year, but I am lost in my own thoughts.

I hear someone call my voice and I look up from my plate. Lucius and Narcissa are waiting for an answer, but I have no idea who spoke or what they asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I asked if you were feeling alright," Narcissa repeats.

"Just a lot on my mind," I say pushing my plate away.

"Well, that much is obvious," Lucius mumbles from behind his wine glass causing Narcissa to shoot him a warning glare.

"Ginevra?" Narcissa asks and I nod in agreement. "Are you worried about the Potter boy harassing her or about how her family is treating her? Or is it just the concern over her health?"

"I have it on good authority that Potter is being occupied by the youngest Weasley boy while the former Miss Granger is keeping a close eye on my wife. But like everything else, one solution in a myriad of problems doesn't matter if she is still too emotional to eat, too stressed about telling her family, and just generally anxious. Quite frankly, I don't really know if keeping Potter away is doing more harm than good at this point," I huff.

"Take a deep breath, Severus," Narcissa says. "Perhaps you should focus on what you do know. Your wife promised to return to Hogwarts if things didn't go well, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"You need to give her a chance," she cuts me off. "Yes, her unhealthy state is a result of her own emotional distress, but you must remember she is more complex than the potions you brew. She is well aware of the consequences if her health continues to decline, but she needs time to process this without the added stress of midterms and Ministry interviews. Telling her family will lift some of the weight off her shoulders, but she needs to figure it out for herself without you pushing her."

"I just hate this," I admit, crossing my arms like a petulant child. "If it were up to me, we would have told them the day she found out."

"But it's not up to you," she reminds me. "Unless you are planning on coming clean about whose baby she's really carrying, you have decided to let _her_ do what _she_ thinks is best, am I right?"

I turn to Lucius and glare. "You _told_ her?" I hiss.

"No," he denies, holding his hands up in surrender. "She basically guessed. I swear."

"Guessed my arse," I mutter under my breath and Narcissa rolls her eyes. We both know she used Legilimency on him.

"The point is that until a clan of angry red heads storm the castle, you are just going to have to wait until she either returns or owls you to know if she is improving."

Leaning back in my chair, I rub my temples as the beginning of a headache starts forming right behind my eyes. As pissed as I should be about Narcissa's speech, I really can't argue with her logic. I know by the lack of Howlers swarming me every morning that she has not told her family, but there is no way for me to know if she is just waiting until the right time or if she is to afraid to tell them.

Patience has always been a difficult virtue for me to obtain, and this is just another situation that proves how much of it I lack. Worrying is doing nothing but putting me in a foul mood and causing me to be rude to my hostess. The Malfoy's maybe my friends, but that is no excuse to forget my manners. Besides, there is no room for negative feelings on Christmas.

Resolved to make up for my ill temper and complaining, I push aside my thoughts and pull my plate back to me. "You are right, Narcissa," I apologize sincerely. "I came over here to enjoy a meal with you and Lucius, so that is what we should do." I raise my glass to toast my friends in thanks and take a large drink. Narcissa gives me a warm smile and nods in acceptance of my apology.

I set my glass down and give a smirk to Narcissa as an idea comes to me. Her smile fades as I turn to Lucius and tease, "You are a very lucky man to have a woman as smart as Narcissa. Guessing my secrets like that? Almost as if she read your mind…"

* * *

Flicking my wand to send the cleaned silverware back to its place, I look around the kitchen for a something to place the left overs in. Even with all my brothers and their wives here, Mum still managed to make enough food for another two Christmas dinners. As I start searching the cabinets, I can't help but smile at the last five days I have spent here.

Although, I can't shake the feeling that something more than Percy and Audrey's pregnancy brought her back to the way she was, I am grateful to see her more like her old self. I can tell Mum still has moments when she starts thinking about Fred, but nothing like the comatose state she was in over the summer.

In fact, everything about this holiday has been quite enjoyable to say the least. I was afraid everyone would immediately bombard me with questions as soon as they saw me, but was pleasantly surprised when none came. In fact, other than Bill asking if Severus was going to join me later in the week, no one has asked a single question about him or my marriage. Of course, Hermione asked how things were going when we were finally alone, but even she kept the questions to a minimum.

While I have actually been able to enjoy the holiday and relax, there is still the problem of announcing my pregnancy. Since I'm still not sure how my brothers will react, I think telling Mum and Dad first would be best. With so many people in the house, I can never seem to get them alone. However, I still have another week week before I have to go back to Hogwarts, so I should be able to find some time before then.

I summon a ceramic dish from the top shelf of the cabinet and a small clink sounds as it lands on the table. Removing the lid, I find a vial of some kind of pale brown potion and a letter with spidery handwriting that catches my eye. I would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Unfolding the note I read:

_Two drops should be mixed in tea, water, or food. If it doesn't seem to work or there are any adverse side effects, please send owl me and I will adjust the potion accordingly. Thank you for your assistance in this matter and I await your update in one week's time._

It was not signed, but there was no doubt in my mind Severus brewed the potion and gave it to my mum. Could it be some kind of antidepressant? Is this what has been making Mum seem like her old self? If so, then why would he claim _she_ is assisting _him_ and ask for an update?

Just as I fold the letter back up, I hear footsteps as the door swings open and Harry enters with Hermione. Before I can shove the evidence of my snooping away, Hermione spot the letter and potion in my hand coupled with my guilty expression and stops abruptly.

"Hey, Ginny," Hermione greets. I know she recognizes Severus' handwriting as she says, "Oh, did Severus send you a Christmas gift?"

Seeing my opportunity, I lie back. "Yeah, just a little something. No big deal. What are you two doing?"

"We came to see if you needed help," Harry answers. "Celestina Warbeck's special is about to come on and your Mum didn't want you to miss out."

"Right," I say. "I am just finishing up. Just tell her I'll be there in just a minute." I put on a bright smile, but I can tell Hermione can see right through it.

"Why don't you let Mrs. Weasley know she's almost finish?" Hermione suggests to Harry. "I have to talk to Ginny for a minute. Personal stuff," she adds as he gives a confused look.

"Okay, sure," he agrees. He looks back and forth between Hermione and I with a suspicious eye for a moment, but then shrugs and leaves.

"Hermione, I-"

"Stop," she waves her hand to cut me off. "I don't need to know what is going on between you and Severus, but don't lie to me. Why is he sending you an appetite stimulant?"

"A what?" I look at the bottle in my hand.

"That potion is clearly _Potum Esurientes_ ," she explains. "Harry, Ron, and I were practically starved from being on the run so long, so it was prescribed to us for nearly a month after the final battle to help us gain back our weight and strength. But the only reason anyone takes it is if they are anorexic and malnourished or needing to gain weight for…" Her voice trails off as her eyes go wide. "Ginny, are you pregnant?"

Before I can answer, a loud crash sounds through the kitchen. We both look to the door and see my Mum with Harry standing in the doorway. While Mum looks perfectly calm, Harry is frozen in shock, hand still in the air with the remnants of shattered glass and water scattered at his feet. Hermione flicks her wand to clean the mess and then shoots me an apologetic look.

I open my mouth, but no words come out as I look back and forth between the three of them trying to decide who to address first.

"Harry, I thought you were going to the living room?" Hermione asks with a hint of irritation.

"I was, I just…" He trails off and looks at me with concern. "You are pregnant?"

Ignoring him, I look at my mum. There is nothing in her face to show shock, disbelief, or even worry. I swallow hard and look at the floor as I say, "Mum, I was trying to figure out how to-"

But I never finish as she takes three strides to me and wraps me in her arms. While Harry continues to gape like a fish, Hermione's face moves from shock, to worry, to confusion.

In a low voice, Mum whispers, "I know darling. Severus sent me an owl."

"Did Severus ask you to slip me this potion?"

She pulls back a bit and looks at Hermione. "Can you and Harry give us a moment?"

As quick as Harry appeared, Hermione drags him out of the kitchen just as quickly. Even as she leaves, I can hear her berating him. I look back at my mum as tears begin to fill her eyes.

"I'm sorry, dear," she apologizes. "I took an oath to not say anything until you told me yourself. He was so concerned about your health and the baby. He wanted to make sure you would improve if you came here."

"He told you?" I practically shriek as I pull away from her. "I have been stressed out for days about how to tell you and he already did? Without me? And then he made you slip me a potion?"

"Ginevra," Mum stresses my name, "it is not like that. He gave it to me as a last resort."

"But you used it!"

"You were nothing but skin and bones when you showed up here five days ago. He told me you lost weight, he didn't tell me you were practically starved to death! What was I supposed to do? Wait for you to wither away before my eyes?"

I wrap my arms around my waist self consciously. As angry as I am about her and Severus going behind my back, I can understand her reasoning. It's like now that I'm pregnant, I suddenly realize just how far a mother will go to protect her child. But there's still the problem of Severus…

"I have to go," I blurt out. My mum looks ready to argue, but I put my hands up. "I'm sorry, I need to talk to Severus. Tell everyone I came down with a cold or something. I don't care. But I need to go back to Hogwarts right now."

Not waiting for an answer, I race past her to my room. Grabbing my things haphazardously, I throw my cloak on and walked out the back door to the apparition point. I don't know why, but I need to talk to Severus. I need him to be straight with me once and for all.

As I turn on the worn patch of earth, I can see my mother watching from the window.

* * *

"Damn it!" Lucius curses as he sits back in his chair. "That is the third game in a row you have won. When did you get so good at Wizard's chess?"

I smirk victoriously. "I guess I've just had a lot of practice lately." Narcissa laughs next to Lucius.

"I told you not to move that bishop," she reminds him.

"Oh, shut up you two," Lucius sulks. Finishing off the rest of his bourbon, he stands to cross the room toward the decanter. "Maybe you should have a go Narcissa."

"I don't think so," she shakes her head. "You know Wizard's chess was never really my cup of tea." Lucius starts to say something, but a ripple of magic washes over the room as the wards of the Manor shift to signal the arrival of someone coming through the floo.

"Must be Draco," Narcissa guesses. "I knew it wouldn't be long before he got completely annoyed with the Greengrasses."

"Yes," Lucius agrees, but then frowns. "But Draco couldn't come through my office from the Greengrass Manor."

"Perhaps he went to his place first," Narcissa suggests. "Why don't you two start another game while I go find him? No doubt he'll be wanting some bread pudding before joining us for drinks."

Lucius laughs and nods as Narcissa sweeps out of the room.

"Sounds like Draco isn't too fond of his in-laws," I quip as we start a new game.

"Actually, he's quite fond of Astoria's parents," Lucius explains. "However, as I'm sure you remember quite well, her sister is a real nightmare. Draco says she openly tries to seduce him in front of her parents, Astoria, even her own husband. So inappropriate, but I am all too familiar in families with half crazy sisters." We both grunt in acknowledgement to his reference to Bellatrix.

"Blasted woman," I mutter under my breath. "Pius really did draw the short end of the wand on that one." As much as I loathe Pius, I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard.

"Better him than you," he reminds me. The door opens, but we are both too focused on the board to look up, so Lucius calls across the room, "Too full for bread pudding?"

"Severus?" Narcissa calls out. Frowning in concentration, I look up from my move and my jaw nearly drops to the floor in shock.

Standing next to Narcissa, looking determined as ever is Ginevra. My stomach drops to the floor knowing this is not going to end well.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Oh, my dear readers, I promise I have not forgotten about you!
> 
> The last several weeks, i have been working really hard to improve the quality of my writing. I have been writing short stories and some non fiction pieces to get some feedback and hopefully give ya'll an even better quality story. I really wanted to give ya'll a date or timeline of when I was coming back, but I was so far behind with the extra writing, I didn't want to make a promise I couldn't keep. But I will answers some of the questions I have been asked:
> 
> No, I did not have writer's block. However, I did have trouble writing this specific chapter.
> 
> No, I did not get tired of the story. However, I had several new ideas and needed to sort them out before the plot bunnies ran away with this already novel length story.
> 
> Yes, I will give you the ending to this. However, we still have a lot of chapters to go.
> 
> Thank you all for being so loyal and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

"Ginevra?"

It's funny how one word can say so much. Even from him.

"What are you doing here-"

"I know about the potion," I cut him off. His mouth snaps shut and his face goes into that blank, unemotional stare I know so well. "And I know you told my mum about the baby."

I watch his jaw clench and unclench. I know how he is. He is waiting, calculating, trying to see where this conversation is going to go before he responds. He is choosing his words based off of my reaction, so I keep my voice even and my face equally blank as I continue.

"I went back to Hogwarts just now, but you weren't there. So I came here. I'm sorry for showing up uninvited," I apologize to Narcissa.

"Perhaps, Lucius and I should give you two a moment," Narcissa suggests, motioning for Lucius to follow her. Lucius raises an eyebrow and gives Severus some kind of meaningful look, but Severus remains motionless. With no response from Severus, Lucius follows his wife and I hear the door click behind me.

Severus looks like he is one step away from either yelling at me or hexing me, so I force myself to swallow the last of my fear and take a deep breath.

"Severus," I enunciate his name slowly. "I just wanted to say… thank you."

* * *

Whatever I expected her to say, that as not it. For a second, I think I am hallucinating. She looks almost ashamed as she lowers her head. If I were dreaming, I'm sure this is the point it would turn into a nightmare.

"You came here to...say thank you?" I ask in astonishment.

"Yes," she raises her gaze on a fraction. "Since I found out I was pregnant, things have been different between us. You seem… distant. I don't know. I'm not explaining this right," she shakes her head and runs her hand through her hair. Dropping her hand she looks me straight in the eye. "I was angry when I found out you went and told my mother, but then I realized that you wouldn't have done it if you didn't think it was necessary. If you didn't want this baby or didn't care for me at all, you would have just left me to continue risking my health and the health of our baby. So, thank you."

"And if my intentions were not so honorable?" I fire back. "Would you still thank me if you knew I did it for my own selfish reasons? How would you feel if I did it not for you or the baby, but for some reason that has nothing to do with you?"

Her eyebrows furrow as she works through my questions. I can see that her courage is now faltering and she is starting to regret coming here. I don't even know why I said that, but I can't take it back now.

"Is that why you have been acting so weird? I've been feeling like you want to say something or tell me something, but you won't. It's like you are hiding something, but I know that if you wanted to hurt me, you would just say whatever it is," she reasons. "Whatever reasons or secrets you are keeping doesn't matter because the end justified your means."

"I wish it were that simple," I answer. "If you truly knew… truly understood my reasons, you would not think so."

"Stop trying to control me!" she snaps. I grimace, wishing I had just kept my mouth shut. She exhales heavily. "Severus," she tries again, "We have spent months in this awful marriage, refusing to try to understand each other, and not caring if we hurt each other. I had every intention of showing up here and demanding answers. In fact, I knew you wouldn't give them to me, but I wanted you to feel my wrath anyway…"

"You seem to be accomplishing it-"

"Shut up, Severus," she rolls her eyes. "I'm not finished. I said I had every intention. But on my way here I realized something. Every time you are petulant, every time I am angry, every time we end up at this place, it never ends well. And I can't do it anymore. I can't."

I run my hand through my hair in defeat. "So what is it you want? In case you forgot, divorce is not an option."

She shakes her head and I can see her eyes become watery. "I don't want a divorce. I want to believe that what you did, that by telling my mom and convincing her to go behind my back, that you care for me on some level. I want to believe that we can be more than just this. I want you to trust me. I want to do more than just survive this marriage. I came here because I wanted to say thank you."

A sigh escapes me. Somehow, I have the feeling that she wouldn't be so thankful if I explained the parentage of her child. However, I never really thought keeping it a secret would protect her emotionally. In all honesty, I just knew it wouldn't be right to continue to fault her for her mistakes. Merlin knows how mine continue to haunt me.

"Then I guess I should say you are welcome," I reply lamely.

Her eyes drop to the floor as it becomes clear my response was more than anticlimactic. I tried to keep my voice unemotional, but I know I just sounded like I dismissed her. She starts to leave, but I know I've fucked up.

"Wait!" I call out. She freezes, but her hand doesn't leave the door knob. Standing quickly, I make my way across the room. "Wait," I repeat placing my hand on her shoulder.

"Why should I?" She whirls back around and her hand comes up to connect with my face, but I lean back and grab her wrist. "I thought you were starting to care! You might have been dishonest, but I thought it was just your way of caring. Like the way you protected Harry for all those years!"

"That was different," I shake my head. "I did not do that for Potter and you know it. Everyone knows who I did it for!"

Her face falls and she looks ashamed. "Yes, Lily," she whispers. There is a hint of pain in her voice. Lifting her head ever so slightly and gesturing to herself, she ask, "Then tell me this- Who did you do _this_ for?"

There it is… the question I knew she'd ask. I was hoping she wouldn't ask until she found out the child's paternity. In fact, I had hoped by the time that question came around, I'd have not just an answer, but the right answer to it. But, now that she is asking, I finally say the one thing I never thought possible and hope it is as right as it sounds.

"You, Ginevra. I did it for you."

* * *

My face burns as the floodgates finally release. I didn't know those few words were what I was waiting for, but it is a relief. It wasn't much, but I know it was his way of saying he wanted all the same things I did.

Severus watches me for a moment in horror. He must believe he said something wrong because he immediately starts apologizing. "Ginevra, I'm so sorry, I thought-"

Taking two steps forward, I close the gap between us and wrap my arms around his waist. He stops mid sentence and stiffens in confusion. Although, there is the possibility he is going to push me away or reprimand me for invading his personal space, I have a feeling he is too shocked to know what to do. We stand that way for a few seconds before I release him to explain.

"Don't apologize, Severus," I say. "I know I'm crying, but it's only because I feel like we are finally on the same page. And I'm sorry for hugging you, but it just felt like the right thing to do…"

To my surprise, he shushes me and pulls me back into his personal space, keeping one arm on my shoulder and using the other to raise my chin up. "I think it is about time we stop apologizing and start listening to each other."

There is something in his voice, something different in his tone. It is almost tender. It is a side I am shocked to see, but happy it exists. I nod and swipe the back of my hand across my face. From the other side of the door, the tinkling laugh of Narcissa brings me back to reality.

"I should go," I say pulling away in embarrassment. "You should stay and enjoy the rest of the day." I reach behind me and open the door.

"Ah," Lucius clears his throat loudly and puts on a more serious face. "Miss Weas-"

"Snape," Narcissa coughs.

"Uh, yes, Snape. Madame Snape," Lucius corrects himself. "Leaving so soon? Won't you join us for tea?" He raises his eyebrows and Narcissa gives me a hopeful smile.

"No. Thank you, but I think it's best if I leave now," I smile apologetically. "Thank you for giving me a moment to speak with Severus. Happy Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

"Alright," Narcissa says slowly with a hesitating look at Severus. "You know there is really know need to leave. You are welcome to stay."

"No," I shake my head. "Really, I should go. Christmas is a time for family, and I just ran out on mine. I should get back," I explain. Giving Severus one last glance, I give him the warmest, most reassuring smile I can muster and say, "Happy Christmas, Severus." The Malfoys give a confused nod, but step aside anyway.

"Lucius, Narcissa," Severus calls out suddenly. "I believe my wife is right. Today is about family and I should spend it with mine." To my surprise, he takes a few long strides to my side before turning back to Narcissa. "Forgive me, but give Draco my best when he arrives," he says before placing a hand at the center of my back. It isn't a huge gesture, but it definitely proves something.

"Of course," Narcissa replies with smile. "Please don't forget about the New Year's celebration. It will certainly mess up the table settings if there are _two_ empty guest seats."

Severus scowls, but the way Narcissa nods in his direction makes it clear that she is trying to hint something. He stiffens for a moment and slides me a hesitant look. "I do apologize, Narcissa, but I think something has come up that will make us unable to attend."

He gives Narcissa a knowing look as I realize exactly what is going on.

"Actually," I say loudly, "I don't think there is anything. Severus and I will definitely be there. Exactly what time did you say it was?"

"Seven," Narcissa smiles triumphantly. Severus presses his lips together, but Narcissa waves him off. "Well, I won't keep you two any longer. Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," I reply warmly. Severus simply nods as he and Lucius exchange a brief handshake.

* * *

"You didn't have to do that," I tell her as we dust the soot from our robes.

"But I wanted to," Ginevra answers. "They are your friends and they wanted you to go. You didn't have to refuse because of me."

"You _want_ to spend an evening with the Malfoys?" I ask in disbelief. "I understand we are trying to… fix this," he waves his hand between us, "but they are the very same people who have looked down on your family for years. I cannot promise you will enjoy their company or their guests."

She lets out a heavy sigh. "If these are the people that you love most, then it is only fair that I at least get to know them."

"But you don't have to-"

"But I want to," she repeats holding her hand up. "I know it doesn't make sense to you, but this is something I need to do. For me. For me to learn to…" Her voice trails off as she struggles for words. Eventually, she shakes her head and says, "Look, I want to go, but if you don't want me to, I will stay here." Her head drops and I can see a pink tinge grace her cheeks.

At first, I want to agree, but something stops me. The earnest tone in her voice is as unmistakable as her pleading expression. I can't understand it fully, but I can understand her determination to try something different. Especially since nothing else has worked thus far.

"Fine," I finally relent. "But if you change your mind, I want you to tell me." I give her a pointed looks, but she readily agrees anyway. With nothing more to say, I move towards the front door and open it. As I gesture for her to exit first, she gives me a confused look.

"Where are we going?"

"To the Burrow?" I give her an equally quizzical look.

"Oh," she blushes. "I wasn't actually planning on going back today. I just told the Malfoys that so they wouldn't feel obligated to let me stay. It would be better if I let things cooled down before I went back to get my stuff, but you are welcome to go back to the Malfoys and enjoy tea. Just tell them you escorted me back, but I wasn't comfortable with you staying and sent you away."

"If it is fine with you, I would rather just spend the rest of the day here," I admit. "Lucius and Narcissa should get to spend some time alone with their son. Merlin knows they have had a rough couple of years," I add solemnly as I think about the war plaguing the holidays for so many years.

"I see," she says. Looking around the room, she shifts on her feet uncomfortably as if unsure of what to say or do next.

"Perhaps," I break the silence, "you'd like to join me in a game of wizard's chess?" I have no idea where that suggestion came from. In fact, I don't even know if the girl knows how to play.

But her furrowed eyebrows relax into a genuinely playful smile as she says, "Only if you promise not to cry when I beat you."

I can't help but snort derisively. "You obviously have no idea who you are up against..."


	35. Chapter 35

"You look nice," comes the voice from behind me. I whirl around and find Severus leaning against the doorway of my bedroom. We are only minutes away from leaving for the Malfoys as I make a few last second adjustments to my robes.

After my impromptu acceptance to the Malfoy's New Year's Eve party, he spent quite a bit of time asking if I was really sure I wanted to go. Eventually, I finally snapped and told him that if he didn't like it, he could stay home by himself. Thankfully, he wasn't upset at my outburst and I could almost see an amused smile playing at his lips as he finally left the subject alone.

However, a few days later, a package with my name on it was delivered by house elf while we sat at the small table eating dinner in the kitchen. Inside were the most beautiful ombre robes I'd ever seen. The top was a light cerulean that faded into a darker shade. The waist had a wide silver sash that was also used to trim the sleeves, neckline, and hem of the skirt. Little silver threads scattered around the skirt of the robes giving them a glittery sparkle as well.

"If you are really intent on going to the Malfoy's, then you should at least have a proper set of dress robes," he shrugged. I wanted to comment that I had a perfectly lovely set of emerald green dress robes, but decided not to say anything. Even if I had the courage to say it, I could barely speak from being so overwhelmed by his generosity.

"How do you know they will fit?" I finally managed to ask.

"They are charmed to fit expand or shrink once you put them on, so you'll never have to have them altered. Even as the baby grows," he added quietly.

Now that they are on me, I couldn't help but smile at the beauty of the robes. They were form fitting, but not in a slutty kind of way. It was the kind of classy elegance the Malfoys are known for.

"Thank you," I answer turning around to face him. "I just wish my hair wasn't so short." I tug at my hair conscientiously. In three months it still barely sits at the top of my shoulders and makes me look like I'm still a first year. I curled it for tonight, but it still just makes me look like a little kid.

"It'll grow," he shrugs. "But not before we have to leave, so you might as well come on," he adds, motioning towards the door.

Nodding in agreement, we head out of our chambers and through the castle so we can apparate from the grounds. On our way, we met a few ghosts, but the halls were mostly empty.

"Just wondering, but I'm not going to get into trouble for curfew or anything am I?"

"If you were alone, I'd personally give you detention," he smirks.

"Gee, thank you for being such a kind husband," I scoff back sarcastically, but not unkindly. He just gives a quirked eyebrow.

The past week seems to have been exactly what we needed. I have spent nearly every hour with him. Sometimes we play Wizard's chess (which we seem evenly matched in), eating meals together, or simply reading or working in the same room. Something about just being in the same area seems to have broken through the wall between us.

We finally make it to the apparition point on the grounds just as snow begins to fall. He gives me his arm and apparates us to the front gate of the Manor.

"Wow," I breath. The walkway alone is bigger than the entire property of the Burrow! "I had no idea this place was so big."

"It is quite a place," he agrees quietly. "As many times as I've visited here, I'm still not sure I have seen the entire place. But I guess that is what makes it the perfect place for parties like this."

"Speaking of parties, is there anything I should know about this party? Is everyone here…"

"Former Death Eaters?" he finishes for me as I struggle to come up with the right words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I apologize.

He shrugs. "Narcissa is very adamant about cutting ties with anyone who may have remotely been on the wrong side of the war. A lot of the people here will be Purebloods, but most will be people of general affluence. The ones who believe you to be a blood traitor wouldn't dare say a word in front of Narcissa unless they really do have a death wish. You shouldn't be worried."

"I'm not," I deny quickly. He obviously knows I'm nervous, but says nothing in return.

As we approach the door, it swings open slowly. A single house elf stands at the entrance, a large crest emblazoned on his chest.

"Your cloaks, please," he bows deeply with hands held out. We step inside and remove our cloaks. I am almost rendered speechless as I finally catch sight of Severus' dress robes.

Of course they are black, but they are also cut differently from his teaching robes. Instead of billowing out, there seems to be far less material and of much better quality. The white on his cravat and his sleeves is so bright, it is almost blinding. His silver buttons and trim along the edges of his robes subtlely but perfectly match the silver in my robes.

"You look nice," I repeat his earlier sentiment. He nods ever so slightly, almost as if he embarrassed by my compliment.

"It only made sense to match accordingly," he mutters. "After all, this is a Malfoy party and there are people to impress," he adds sarcastically. I smile at his joke and let him lead me onward into the rest of the Manor.

Other guests are milling around the dining room as we enter. Several people look visibly shocked as we enter. I can't tell if it is because of Severus, or me, or the fact that we are there together, but it does make me slightly uncomfortable. Ignoring the stares, he leads me to the far end of the room where the head of the table is.

"I always sit to the right of Lucius," he explains so only I can hear. "Narcissa will be on his left and either Astoria or Draco will be across from you. Although, I'm not sure who will be next to-"

"Oh, Severus!"

A high pitched squeal screeches through the dining area as everyone turns their head in our direction. A very blonde, very buxom girl pushes past me to Severus. His eyes darken and narrow for a split second, but then his face goes blank. I can feel him tense up next to me as she reaches up and places her hand on his upper arm in a very intimate way.

"Madame Thicknesse," he greets stiffly.

"Daphne. My name is Daphne," she insists dramatically. "But never mind that. It is so lovely to see you again. It looks like I lucked out and get to sit next to you again!" Her enthusiasm is so over the top, I can feel my lip start to curl in disgust.

"Actually," he pulls his arm away from her and places that hand on the small of my back, "I think you should check the settings again. You will be sitting next to my wife. I don't suppose you've met, have you?"

* * *

Daphne's smile falters momentarily as she glances sideways to check the place cards, but then smiles deviously as she faces Ginevra.

"Well, I would know a Weasley anywhere, even if we hadn't been in school together," she practically sneers. I can feel myself glaring down at her.

"And I suppose if we hadn't been in school together, I wouldn't know you well enough to have to ask you to please refrain from laying your hand upon my husband," Ginevra replied with the chilliness of an arctic freeze.

Daphne's eyes flash momentarily, but Ginevra draws herself up confidently and mirrors the same evil smirk Daphne wore just minutes earlier. But as Daphne opened her mouth to retort, Pius appeared at her side.

"Everything fine?" he asks as he eyes me suspiciously. It takes all my willpower to keep from making some sarcastic comment about him keeping a closer eye on his wife.

"Wonderful," she drawls sarcastically. With a flip of her curls, she sticks her nose in the air and drags Pius in the opposite direction of the table. I can only hope she is going to ask Narcissa to move her place setting as far away from Ginevra as possible.

"Well, she's lovely," Ginevra mutters under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I should have-"

"Ugggg," she huffs in disgust, "don't apologize. It's not your fault she has no boundaries or sense of decency. Did you really sit next to her at the last party?"

"For one miserable night. And if dinner wasn't terrible enough, the girl would not leave me alone afterwards either," I add disdainfully.

"You danced with her." It came out as more of a statement than a question. I frown, but she shakes her head and whispers, "It was her lipstick, wasn't it?"

My stomach drops as I realize I've said far too much. Swallowing hard, I try to explain. "It wasn't like that. She was completely… I mean I didn't want-"

She shakes her head and waves her hand like one would swat a fly. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I mean I am, but not at you," she says quickly. She looks like she wants to say something more, but the bell chimes to signal for everyone to take their seats. Instead, she just gives me a warm, reassuring smile, as if to say all is well.

We take our seats and dinner begins without incident. Pius ends up taking the seat next to Ginevra and Daphne on his other side. However, she makes it a point to ignore our end of the tale, leaving Ginevra to converse freely with Astoria and Draco across the table. In fact, I'm pretty sure Draco and Ginevra spent the entire dinner talking Quidditch.

As always, dinner was delicious and filling. A lovely duck graced the center of the table with side dishes of potatoes, vegetables, and gravy surrounding it like elegantly. Once the main course was devoured, magnificent deserts of pudding, pies, and treacle tart appeared in its place. I've always been of the opinion that Hogwarts had the best meals, but the Malfoy's dinners definitely come in a close second.

When the last of the dessert forks are licked clean, the party moves into the ballroom for drinks and dancing. Although it was surprising to see Ginevera getting on so well with Draco and Astoria, I was happy nonetheless. I certainly hoped tonight would not end in disaster.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I ask hesitantly.

"Absolutely," she smiles brightly. "Astoria is really very nice and Draco has really changed. He's nothing like when we were in school."

"This last year has changed many of us," I remind her.

"I know," she nods solemnly. "All the Malfoy's are certainly not the people I remember them to be." She motions towards Narcissa and Lucius making their rounds around the room.

As I watch them greet each guest warmly, I am reminded of the haughty arrogance they were so well known for over the years. There is a new relaxed air surrounding them, as though a great burden has been lifted from their shoulders. Perhaps it has something to do with their renewed love for one another. Or perhaps is because they made it out of the war with their son relatively unharmed. Either way, it is refreshing to see.

"Madame Snape," Lucius greets with a bow as he finally approaches us. "Would you do me the honor of dancing the first dance of the night with me?"

Ginevra blushes. "I'm not a very good dancer," she mumbles.

"Lucky for you, I am an excellent dancer," he smiles back. He holds his hand out. "Please?"

She shoots me quick glance. "Uh, I would, but… what about…" her voice trails off and I can see her eyes drop to the ring on her left hand.

Lucius frowns for a second, but then seems to understand. He looks up at me. "Severus?"

"I give my permission," I say before turning back to her confused expression. "If you give Lucius permission for this dance, my ring will not burn."

She looks skeptical, but then slowly nods in agreement as Lucius takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor.

* * *

"Didn't you know?"

I tear my eyes away from Severus and back to Lucius as he spins me around. "Know what?"

"About giving permission?"

I shake my head. "I thought our rings burned when we touch anyone other than our family members. I don't understand what just happened." He nod in understanding.

"As you know, the original purpose of fidelity rings was to ensure a true, legitimate heir was produced from arranged marriages. However, problems began to arise after women became pregnant," he explained, "Midwives couldn't examine or deliver the babies without causing extreme pain for men. There was also the problem that if either partner was treated by a healer, the other's rings would burn."

"So they charmed them to let healers have no effect?" I frown in confusion. If Malfoy is healer, then I must be the Minister of Magic.

He lets out a chuckle of laughter as if he read my thoughts. "No. They were charmed to allow physical contact so long as both parties give permission. But it only works, if both parties are in agreement under the same terms."

"Terms?"

"Like right now," he gestures to the space between us, "I asked for permission from you and Severus to have a dance with you. You both agreed. When this dance ends, the terms of this physical contact will end and Severus' ring will burn again."

We fall silent as this new information processes through my mind. It is a loophole. Although I should be pissed that Severus refused to tell me, I really can't blame him. What was I going to do, ask for permission to touch Harry? However, my guilty mind reminds me, Hermione has had quite a time trying not to hug you over the past few months. I start to wonder if he would agree to letting us hug again.

"Madame Snape?" Startled out of my thoughts, I look up. "I have to confess, I did have an ulterior motive in asking you to dance with me."

"Oh?"

"Not a bad ulterior motive," he reassures me. "I just wanted a moment alone to express my sincerest apologies for a certain incident...one that happened a few years back…" His voice trails off and I can see a look of shame cross his face.

"Tom Riddle's diary," I automatically say. He nods remorsefully. Before I can stop myself, I ask, "Did you know what it was when you gave it to me? Did you have any idea what it was?"

"I swear on my son's life, I had no idea how powerful the magic inside it was," he insists. "I will confess, I knew Dark Magic and I knew that handing it would give you some nasty curse like making your darkest secrets known or something like that. My intention was to get your father back for raiding my Manor, but your life was not the price I wanted him to pay. I swear."

My earlier sentiment comes floating through my mind: The Malfoy's are certainly not the people I remember them to be. As I study him, I realize that I never really knew them to begin with. I knew the Malfoys were part of the inner circle and I had always assumed that meant he was privy to most of Voldemort's secrets. But looking at him now, I can't help but wonder how much he really didn't know about the man he called master. I can hear the waltz coming to an end, but I know I have to speak my mind.

"Let's say that I believe you. Even if you didn't intend to kill me then, you still tried to kill me at the Department of Mysteries," I remind him. "You also showed up to my home during my brother's wedding and attacked my family. We fought against each other at Hogwarts. And it wasn't just me you tried to kill, but my friends as well. Even if I can forgive you for all that, how can I possibly trust you?"

"Forgiveness does not mean trust," he reasons. "I have no expectations of receiving your trust or your forgiveness, but I will still ask for the latter. Even if you were not my best friend's wife, I would still owe you a sincere apology for my actions over the last several years."

The last note of the band plays, and he releases me quickly before the effect of the ring can reactivate. There is a humbleness to his demeanor as he gives me a bow.

"Thank you for the dance, Madame Snape," he says formally. He turns to leave, but I grab the sleeve of his robes.

"Wait," I stop him. Although it is foolish for me to trust him, there is something inside me telling me it would be cruel to turn down such sincerity. "If you owe me an apology, then I at least owe you the courtesy of allowing you to call me by my first name. I mean, just as a token of my forgiveness."

He frowns for a moment, but then smiles in understanding. "Thank you, _Ginevra_ ," he emphasises my name. "I look forward to earning your trust as we get to know each other." With one last bow, he gestures for me to leave the dance floor first.

As I turn to find Severus, my eyes widen in fury as I watch Daphne begin to reach her hand up to his face.

* * *

"She really is lovely," Narcissa comments casually. We watch Lucius twirl Ginevra around the dance floor. "I'm glad you brought her. And thank you for letting Lucius have a dance with her."

Tearing my eyes from my wife, I face Narcissa with a raised brow. "Why?"

"Lucius was hoping for a moment alone with her to express his sincerest apologies," she explains. "From what I understand, he felt he owed it to her since the day you found her name on your letter."

A chuckle escapes me as I am reminded of our conversation all those months ago. Even though I was a bit harsh in my teasing, I am mildly surprised he took my request to apologize for his actions against her so seriously. "I am sure Ginevra will appreciate it."

"I certainly hope-"

"Severus!" Daphne Thicknesse pushes her way between Narcissa and I, placing her hand on my arm. With no skin on skin contact, I know Ginevra's ring is not burning, but I am more than a little uncomfortable. Shrugging my arm out of her grasp I take a small step to the side.

"Daphne," I greet in my most bored tone.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Narcissa, but I just had to come speak to Severus," Daphne gushes. I can tell Narcissa is so far from accepting Daphne's fake apology, she is merely seconds away from hexing her. However, Daphne is clueless as she turns back to me. "Won't you dance with me?"

"No," I answer in a clipped tone. Unwilling to take the hint, she inches forward but I keep my eyes locked on Ginevra and Lucius dancing. The song is only moments from ending, but time seems to slow to a crawl.

"Come on, Severus? I've been dying to dance with you," she whines. When I don't react, she lowers her voice and says, "Since your wife is preoccupied, I'm sure she won't mind if I steal you away for a few minutes." Bile rises in my throat at her insinuation.

I turn my head to regain my composure. Then, out of my peripheral vision, I see a pale hand reach for my face. I freeze in horror as it registers what is about to happen.

But just as her hand is about to graze my jaw, she freezes. Looking over her left shoulder, I see Ginevra scowling terrifically with her wand pointed at Daphne's back. Still suspended in mid reach, Daphne's eyes flick around in panic and tries to speak speak, but only a pathetic gurgle can be heard. The rest of the room is completely unaware of the conflict taking place, save for the few standing close enough to hear over the band starting up the next song.

"Daphne," Ginevra addresses her through gritted teeth as she makes her way over to us with her wand still drawn. "I know you were not about to reach up and touch _my_ husband now, were you?" Daphne makes another pitiful sound, but Ginevra ignores her as she continues in a low voice. "I hope not because you have already crossed the line once tonight and crossing me a second time would not be wise. Let this be your warning; I swear to Circe that if you ever try to lay a hand or a those filthy lips on my husband again, I will personally make sure you are sneezing bat guano for the next three months of your life. Do I make myself clear?"

With the last part of the question, Ginevra releases the spell and Daphne staggers back ungracefully. The two hold an icy stare between them for several long seconds. Finally, Daphne has the decency to mutter, "Perfectly," before stalking off. Narcissa gives Ginevra an approving smile before following Daphne, no doubt to give her a piece of her mind as well.

"Shall we dance?" I suggest. Ginevra lets out a sigh and nods, so I lead her to the floor. As the first steps start, her tension melts away as her focus becomes intent on following my lead.

After a minute, she looks up at me and asks, "What?"

"Nothing," I answer trying to hide my smirk.

"Liar," she rolls her eyes.

"'Personally make sure you sneeze bat guano for the next three months of your life'?" I repeat. "I had no idea you were so..."

"Eloquent?" Her eyes glare as if daring me to tease her.

"I was going to say vicious," I chuckle. Her face relaxes and she lets out a small laugh.

"She was getting on my last nerve," she huffs indignantly. "Stupid cow."

"I am capable of taking care of the fawning women on my own," I tease. "Surely you realize that compared to being a double agent, handling Daphne would have been a piece of treacle tart?"

"Very funny," she smirks. We dance in silence until a sudden announcement comes over the room asking for everyone to head to the terrace for the midnight countdown and fireworks.

"I heard they've been supplied with your brother's finest fireworks for this," I tell her as we walk outside. The snow has started to fall again, so I cast a subtle warming charm around us.

"Then this should be amazing," she smiles back. When the crowd finally settles outside, a thirty second countdown starts.

_30… 29… 28…_

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"I just want to say, that I hope this new year gives us a new beginning," she answers. I drop my gaze from the sky to her face. There is a look of remorse and guilt.

"It will be," I reassure her. "I want to make this work if you do."

_20… 19… 18…_

"You do?"

"I don't say things I don't mean, Ginevra."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just-"

"If we are going to start fresh," I cut her off gently, "then you have to stop apologizing for your mistakes. This won't work if we are too hung up on the past."

"I know," I she repeats. "I want to learn to love you."

_10… 9… 8…_

"You do?"

_7… 6… 5…_

"I don't say things I don't mean," she repeats with a warm smile.

_4… 3… 2…_

There is something there in that smile. Something that makes me believe everything is going to be all right. There is hope and sincerity that goes straight to my heart and makes me suddenly feel whole.

The crowd shouts, "One!" and fireworks light up the night sky as cheers erupt.

It only takes a second for me to lean in and brush my lips to hers. Although I expect her to flinch away, she remains in place. Instead she reaches up and places her hand on my cheek, deepening the kiss so our lips are firmly pressed together.

After a few seconds, we break apart mutually. Her eyes flutter and a blush comes over her cheeks in the most beautiful way I've ever seen.

"Happy New Year, Severus," she whispers with a shy smile.

"Happy New Year," I repeat as we both look up to watch the old year burn fall further and further into our past.


	36. Chapter 36

The only sound that can be heard is the clock ticking away on the mantle. I try to keep still and relaxed, as if glancing around the room will disturb the peace of the room. However, I can't resist as I let my eyes drift gently over the top of my book for a peek at Severus.

It's been a couple of days since our New Year's kiss, but there has been a subtle shift. We still have awkward silences and strange pauses as we try to find the right words to speak to each other, but I don't feel the apprehension that I did before we kissed. If anything, I have been bolder than normal.

On New Year's Day, we went to the Great Hall for the small feast being held. Although there is a single table, there is still a very prominent divide between teachers and students. However, Severus made it a point to sit next to me. I assume it was mostly to keep monitoring my food intake, but he didn't ignore me like he normally would have. Instead, he made a few comments through the meal and even included me in a conversation with Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. It was like we were operating as a couple rather than two strangers sitting next to each other.

After the wonderful food and lively conversation, I could feel my eyes growing heavy. As we left and headed back to our chambers, I mentioned that I needed a nap. He actually chuckled and commented that I should sleep while I could since it wouldn't be long before I wouldn't be able to nap when I wanted. When we arrived back at the our chambers, he escorted me to my room like a boy would walk a girl home from a date. Maybe it was the food or my sleepiness, but I couldn't resist reaching up and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He didn't flinch away or try to stop me when I did it again that evening after our chess game. I bid him a good night and bent over his chair to peck him on the cheek. He seemed to actually lean into it. I was sure he would comment on it the following morning, but he didn't. In fact, as I walked in our small kitchen, he placed an arm on my shoulder and gave me gentle peck on the top of my head.

Now that we are in the living room reading, I can't seem to focus on my book as I steal a glance or two at him. The kiss from New Year's wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't passionate either. It was simple and relaxed, but felt right. Something clicked and I have spent nearly all my free time wondering what it would be like to kiss again.

As I watch him across the room, I'm can see there are things that are not so repulsive about him. He is not necessarily handsome, but I do enjoy his features. Since the war, his skin doesn't seem so sickly even though he is still quite pale. His nose is his most prominent feature, but it somehow fits his face. His eyes are my favorite feature to look at though. They are so dark, almost black, but have something in them that draws me in. It's probably part of the reason why he is such a great Legilimens.

Before I can break my gaze, a knock echoes through the living area. I start to rise, but he just waves his hand.

"I'm closer," he points out. "I'll get it." I nod in agreement and watch him glide to the door with ease. His eyebrows raise slightly as opens the door.

"Mrs. Weasley," he greets. I stiffen for a second until I hear the response.

"You know you can just call me Hermione."

"Perhaps when you are no longer a student," he suggests.

She shrugs as she steps through the threshold. "Technically, we are related. I don't suppose you call anyone in your family by their last name?"

Severus presses his lips together. "No, I suppose if any of them were still alive, I would not." Hermione looks slightly ashamed, but he just waves her off. "I suppose it will just have to be something I work on… Hermione." Hermione grins triumphantly at his pointed use of her name.

"Hey," I greet, standing up from the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"Your mother sent me with the gifts you left behind at Christmas and some of the leftover food."

"Oh, I completely forgot about them," I admit. Truthfully, I haven't thought about anyone except Severus.

"Well, she thought you needed some space, but since Ron and I were coming back to the school today, it seemed pointless to send them by owl. I would have waited, but there is nowhere for Ron and I to keep the food, except in our room. But you know he'll just devour everything in one day," she explains.

"I can imagine," I laugh. I motion for her to follow me into the kitchen as Severus settles back into his chair.

Once in the kitchen, she pulls out her beaded bag and begins pulling out tins of biscuits, dishes of casserole, and containers of soup and stew. My mouth practically waters just thinking about all the delicious food I missed after I left.

It takes no time at all to find a place for everything, so I suggest we go to my bedroom to unload the gifts. She shuts the door behind her and proceeds through the same process of unpacking gifts and restoring them to their original size. Most are for me, but I spy a couple for Severus, including one lumpy on from my mom that is almost certainly a sweater. I stifle a laugh just thinking about his reaction.

"So how are you?" Hermione finally asks.

"I'm fine. I guess I should have let Mum know that I wasn't coming back," I say.

"She said you owled her," Hermione frowns.

"I didn't..." I start to say, then shake my head as I realize it. "Severus must have sent a note so she wouldn't worry."

"I see," Hermione nods. "So I take it you and he worked things out?"

"Sure," I shrug casually. I can tell her curiosity is starting to get the better of her, so I hide my smirk. She narrows her eyes for a second, then flicks her wand at the door, simultaneously warding it and casting a silencing charm.

"Okay, spill it," she demands. I give her an innocent look, but she doesn't buy it. "Come on Ginny. You announce you are pregnant, then storm out of your mother's house, looking like you are going to kill your husband, but we get a note later saying that everything is fine. Then I come to check on you today, expecting to find you two still at odds with each other, but instead, your husband banters with me as he lets me in and you look calmer than I've seen you in months. Something is going on here."

"Nothing is going on," I finally relent with a smile. "We are just… learning to be together."

"Fine," she rolls her eyes. "I get that you want to keep it private. But we at least have to talk about this baby. When did you find out? How long has have you known? How did Professor Snape react? It that why you've been acting strange?"

"Okay, okay," I hold my hands up in surrender. "How much time do you have?"

She plops on my bed and smirks. "For this? All the time in the world…"

* * *

Ginevra and her friend are gossiping about me, I know it. Why else would she ward the door and cast a silencing charm?

Oddly enough, it doesn't irritate me as much as it might have a few months ago. I'm more embarrassed about the fact that she is probably talking about our physical contact over the last few days.

I don't regret kissing her at the manor. It was rather thrilling. I honestly can't say there was a spark or the metaphorical fireworks to go with the real ones above our head, but it was the perfect way to start the new year. And the fact that she has continued to give light pecks on my cheeks over the last few days tells me that she agrees.

Funny, it almost seems like we are dating. Dating is not really a subject I consider myself an expert on, but this all seems to be how it would have gone had there been more time before we got married. Or how it would have gone if we had just made better use of the time we were given.

I can feel her eyes stealing glances when she thinks I'm not paying attention. It takes every bit of my willpower to not look into those caramel eyes and search for the reason. While it is obvious that I am not repulsive to her, I can't help but chalk her feelings up to hormones. I'd like her to want to continue to explore this relationship, but I have to remind myself to be cautious. Our circumstances could be tricking us into thinking we are feeling something that is not really there.

As I try to settle back with my book, the fireplace flares green. Lucius steps through and settles on the couch as if it is his living room he walked into.

"Lucius," I drawl without lifting my eyes, "How nice of you to join me. Tell me, how could you possibly have known I was even here at the moment?"

He shrugs with a smirk. "Lucky guess?"

"Don't fuck with me," I snap my book shut. "You never visit me and when you do, you make it a point to come through the grounds and take a meeting with the Headmistress."

"Fine, you caught me," he raises his hands in surrender. "I was here visiting the Headmistress to deliver news before it hits the papers tomorrow. She was happy enough to offer to let me floo over directly from her office."

"And what news would that be?"

"The Wizengamot has given extra funds to Hogwarts to allow for students with children to continue with their education after giving birth. Students who give birth during the school year will be given a set portion per month to go towards childcare, food, clothing, nappies, and other needs for the child. The hope is that the students will not be forced to drop out of school in an attempt to find jobs to support their offspring," he explains.

"Sound reasonable," I state indifferently. Wasn't the news I was hoping for, but it is a step in the right direction. Since Ginevra is not due until the school year ends, this news does not have any real effect on me. "I can understand your visit to the Headmistress, but why come see me? You know I will be at the manor on Sunday for drinks."

"Can't I visit you just because you are my friend?" I give him a pointed look, so he rolls his eyes. "Fine. Truth be told, I was curious how things were going with you and Ginevra."

"Fine."

"Really?"

"You are being nosey."

"I saw you kiss her."

This time I roll my eyes. "Well, she _is_ my wife."

Lucius lets out a bark of laughter. "I'm well aware of that. However, I would venture to say that your kiss at my party was the first one you two have shared."

"Voyeur," I scoff.

"Come on, Severus," he persists. "I'm not trying to tease you or make you feel uncomfortable. From my view, the pair of you looked happy. There is no shame in admitting that things are going well."

A sigh escapes me and I rub my temples. "Yes," I admit, "things are going well, or at least as well as they can for the moment. We kissed and are still getting along, so that is good. She kisses me on the cheek before bed and that is it."

"See? You are making progress," he declares definitively.

"Of course, we are," I snap. "That was the point."

"So what's the problem?" he asks seriously. "Why are you being so… hostile?"

"I'm annoyed, not hostile," I argue. He gives me a pointed look, so I sigh again. "I just don't want to jinx it or get too ahead of myself. We seem to always make progress and then fall right back to where we were. I don't want to do that again."

"Hey, I get it and I understand," Lucius reassures me. "But I think this time is going to be different though. You two seem to finally be on the same page. Nothing you say is going to mess that up. You just need to make sure you don't overthink it too much. That seems to be when things start to go awry."

Before I can reply, I hear voices in the hallway. Lucius and I turn to see Ginevra escorting her friend down the hallway. They both freeze mid stride.

"Ginevra," Lucius greets cordially, "And Miss Granger, right?"

"Weasley," they answer in unison. Hermione reaches to her forearm instinctively. Ginevra eyes the spot and looks at me as if she is trying to communicate something to me.

"Right, forgive me," Lucius apologizes with a smile. From the way Ginevra is boring her eyes in me, the realization of the situation dawns on me- the night Bellatrix carved _MUDBLOOD_ in her arm occurred at Malfoy Manor while Lucius was watching. It must still haunt her friend.

"Lucius was just visiting the Headmistress and stopped by to say hello," I rush to explain, hoping to break the tension. I turn to Lucius and give him a hinting look. "I believe he was just leaving."

"Right," Lucius agrees loudly. I can see him shift uncomfortably as the realization dawns on him as to exactly why Ginevra's friend would feel uncomfortable. "Well, then I'll see you Sunday, Severus."

"No! Wait! It's fine. It's fine," Hermione says hurriedly. "I should be going. I'm… yeah. I'll see you later, Gin." She rushes past me and flies out the door before Ginevra can even bid her goodbye.

"I'm really sorry, Ginevra," Lucius apologizes miserably. "I didn't mean to run your friend off. I take full responsibility-"

"No, it's okay," Ginevra reassures him. "She knows you are no longer an enemy. The war was… terrible and some parts are just harder to get over than others. But I don't think she is trying to hold it against you. I think you just caught her off guard today."

"Of course, I understand," he nods solemnly. For the first time in a long time, I see the remorse and defeat left from the war. "Please let your friend know, I do not wish to have this… divide between us. Especially now that our connection is closer than ever."

"I will," she agrees. "I didn't get a chance before to tell her about your willingness to make amends, so this will give me the perfect opportunity."

"Excellent," he smiles. Glancing at the two of us, he gives me a knowing smirk before taking his leave. "And I really should get back. Have a nice day!"

"Bye," I reply as he grabs a pinch of floo powder off the mantle and steps into the flames. Turning back to Ginevra, I ask, "Perhaps you should find your friend now? She looked a little distraught."

Ginevra shakes her head. "I'll find her tomorrow. She needs time to think it over. That's what she does. However," she changes the subject, "there is something I've been meaning to ask you." I tilt my head to signal her to continue. "I was wondering if I could have permission to… hug her?" She blushes deeply.

"Hug her?" I repeat.

"Yes," she answers looking slightly embarrassed. "We are really good friends and she is a hugger. It has been really hard for her to not give me a hug with the ring and there are times that I want to give her one back. And when I do talk to her about Lucius, she might need a hug…"

I suddenly find myself embarrassed. How could I have not thought of it sooner? "Of course," I quickly answer. "She's your friend. You should be able to hug her freely if that is what you wish. I said before the rings were not meant to sever our ties to friends of the opposite sex, but they shouldn't with our same sex friends either."

"Oh," she suddenly looks thoughtful, "I see what you mean. I give you permission to hug Lucius too."

A bark of laughter escapes me, but Ginevra visibly relaxes as I ask, "Hug Lucius? Me?"

She suddenly laughs with me. "Yes, now that you say it, I know it sounds ridiculous that you would ever hug anyone. But the option to hug Lucius is there if you want it," she replies. She rolls her eyes humorously and settles back on the couch with her book.

As I take my seat again, I can't help but feel slightly wistful. I would much rather hug her than Lucius. Perhaps one day she will agree to give permission for that.


	37. Chapter 37

January weather is always quite ugly at Hogwarts, but it never stops Quidditch practice from starting up again. The wind is biting cold and it has been sleeting off and on all day, but Harry is determined to have us practice.

So, I finish braiding my hair and slip my wand into my sleeve before heading down the hall and out the front door with my broom. As soon the door swings open, I see Hermione heading down the hallway toward me.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" I call out.

"I came to walk you to practice." She falls in stride with me as we make our way through the frigid dungeons.

I roll my eyes. "Did Severus send you?" Even though Madame Pomfrey cleared me for practice, Severus felt I needed more time to rest.

She frowns and shakes her head. "Why would he send me?"

"Nevermind," I wave her off. "But you don't like Quidditch to begin with. It's probably thirty degrees, gusty, and rainy. Why on earth would you want watch practice in that kind of weather?"

Hermione lets out a cheerful laugh. "Well, I'm not really going to see you over the next few days, so I figured we could catch up on the walk to the pitch."

"Where are you going to be?"

"The Wizengamot is holding a session to hear arguments for extending the marriage law age to twenty instead of seventeen. I've been asked by the Minister to present the case, so I'll need to be in London," she explains.

"But you and I and most of our friends are already married," I point out. "Even if the extension passes, it won't matter for us."

"This isn't about us," she answers with a hint of irritation. "This is about the younger generations. Think about how many students here at Hogwarts will be coming of age in the next year alone. How many of them will be frantically searching for a spouse rather than focusing on their education? How many of them will be so terrified of being placed in the lottery, they will just be trying to find anyone rather than someone they are actually compatible with. Furthermore, our scope of searching is very limited to the people we know here in school. If we extend the age, it will give people more time to search for potential spouses from other schools or even in a different age range. And then there is the problem of magical blood lines being so muddled from a limited gene pool, that extending the age would give people a chance to possibly find a compatible spouse in the Muggle population. That would give us the potential to limit the number of squib births, magical defects, and-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I cut her off. "You don't have to convince me, so save your speech for the Wizengamot."

"Sorry," she blushes. "You know Umbridge will be ready to exploit any weakness in my case, so I've been preparing for the last couple of days like a madwoman. I want to make sure that I cover every argument they could possibly throw my way."

"You'll be fine," I reassure her. "Kingsley wouldn't have asked if he didn't think you were the best, and let's face it, you are the 'brightest witch of your age'."

"Suck up," she elbows me playfully. We reach the front doors and head out into the bitter cold. Hermione casts a warming charm and water repellant charm, but the gloomy day still surrounds us as a reminder.

"This is going to be a miserable practice," I mutter under my breath, but Hermione hears.

"Harry said you didn't have to come," she reminds me. "You know he doesn't want to put you or the baby in harms way."

"Practice in cold weather isn't harmful."

"But pneumonia is."

"I'm not going to get pneumonia," I insist. "You and Harry need to stop worrying about me."

"I think Harry is more worried about what your husband will do to him if something happens to your baby," she explains. "Besides, Ginny, I think you forget that while you've already processed this, the rest of us are still trying to wrap our heads around you being pregnant. You have no idea how surreal everything became after you stormed out of your parent's house on Christmas Day. Your father didn't say anything the rest of the holiday, Bill and Fleur left almost as soon as you did, and Ron practically stopped eating. Even Celestina Warbeck couldn't shake us out of our shock."

"I already apologized for screwing up everyone's holiday," I huff back.

"You don't need to apologize, you just need to give us a little bit of time to get use to the thought of you and Professor Snape having a baby," she replies in a gentle tone. "We know you aren't some fragile china doll, but that doesn't mean that we don't want to protect you."

"Are you sure you haven't been talking to Severus?" I reply dryly.

"No," she smiles innocently, "but I must be saying something right if your own husband is agreeing with me." I roll my eyes again, but smile anyway. The thought of Severus and Hermione agreeing on anything strikes me as comical.

We reach the pitch and the wind dies down slightly. Harry stops talking with Ron momentarily as he spots me, but I can see his eyes drop to the ground almost immediately. They mount their brooms and the rest of the team follows.

"You going to walk me back after practice, too?" I ask playfully.

"Only so we can gossip some more," she winks. As I kick off, she moves up the stands to find a seat.

The wind whips around me, but I suddenly feel a peace wash over me. I missed flying. I missed Quidditch. I missed just being me.

Harry starts us running through a few drills and I can see we are a little rusty. Out of the ten plays we run, four are perfect, so Harry makes us run the whole set several more times. As much as I thought I would be irritate, I am actually enjoying being out here. Yes, my warming charm is wearing off and the rain is borderline miserable, but it feels good to be playing Quidditch again.

"Okay, it's still not great, but we're getting there," Harry yells above the wind. "Let's take a five minute and then start the formation over." Each member begins pulling their wand out to reapply warming and rain repelling charms. "Hey, Gin," Harry greets coming up alongside my broom.

"Hey, Harry," I say back, trying to sound casual. "I know the play isn't perfect, but I think we'll get there by the next match. It's in a couple of weeks, right?"

"Yeah," he replies, "we are playing against Ravenclaw. Their keeper is out for the rest of the year, so they are using their backup seeker. What he lacks in keeping skill, he makes up for in speed, so we definitely need to get this play down."

"I see. What happened to their keeper? Injury?"

Harry blushes and shakes his head. "She's pregnant." An awkward silence fills the space between us, but he tries to reassure me by saying, "But she's a lot further along than you. Our season should be over before you are too pregnant to play anymore. Sorry that was a stupid thing to say. I mean, the season will be over before you aren't allowed to play anymore. Or at least until Madame Pomfrey says you can't play? I-" He flounders and his face burns red despite the cold weather.

"It's fine," I say loudly, trying to save him from babbling. "You're right though. The season should be over before I'm not able to play anymore." Those words alone make my stomach flip. I still have months to play, but it suddenly seems too close. "Break over?"

Harry looks at his watch and calls the team to line up in formation. I focus on the practice as best I can, but something at the back of my mind nags on as my churning stomach slowly becomes a dull throb of uneasiness.

I know that eventually the baby will be here and things are going to change, but saying it over and over to myself doesn't make it any better. With my original fears of marriage starting to ease, the thought of having a baby brings back all that anxiety. In fact, having a baby with Severus isn't even the problem anymore. I just wish I didn't have to have one at all right now. I wish I wasn't pregnant.

We continue running drills for another hour, working on our passing, and practicing our shots on goal. With Ron doing a pretty good job blocking my shots, I make a mental note to work on my shooting skills between official practices.

Finally, Harry decides practice is over and not a minute too soon as the throb in my side turns into a stabbing pain. I didn't eat much for breakfast, so I can only assume my hunger is getting the better of me as I land next to Hermione.

"You okay?" she asks. While she is relatively dry and warm, I can see she her patience is wearing thin. She's a good friend for watching, but I know she was bored out of her mind since the rain kept her from reading or studying.

"I think I'm just starving." I'm also ready for some dry clothes and a warm bath, but I'm not going to complain.

"Come on," she grabs my arm and pulls me towards the castle as the wind starts to pick up again. We get inside just as a heavy sheet of rain cuts through our charms and soaks me to the bone. As I stop to catch my breath, a sharp pain hits me again.

"Ginny?" Hermione hesitates. I start to reassure her that I am fine, but then I follow her eyes to the puddle forming around my dripping robe and soaked shoes.

"What?" I ask, but stop as I watch red droplets turn the pink against the tan marble. Panic overtakes me as I look up helplessly at her.

Her wide eyes betray her calm voice as she says, "I think we need to go to the Hospital Wing."

* * *

_...properties include a substantial precipitant of alkaline residue. Other qualities may include the presence of monolithium particles to balance the volatile base._

I roll my eyes in annoyance at the homework I'm marking. The student obviously copied the text word for word, so I scribble a big red "T" across the top with a note to see me after class. Seems the fifth years think that getting bitten by a deadly snake means my intelligence has been sucked out of my brain.

Tossing the offending paper, I reach for the next in my pile when a knock echoes through my office. "Enter," I bark without looking up.

"Good day, Severus. Busy?"

I try my best to stifle a groan as I answer, "Hello, Minerva. Something I can help you with?"

She smiles brightly and practically skips into my office. "I was just passing through the dungeons-" to which I snort in disbelief "-and thought I'd drop in to see you."

"Passing through to where? My chambers perhaps?"

She laughs. "Yes. Can't an old woman visit an old friend to wish him happy birthday?" I look up to glare and watch her pull a bottle of Ogden's finest Scotch with a big green bow from her robe pocket.

"Scotch from a Scott," I muse as she transfigures two inkwells into a set of tumblers. "Tsk, tsk, Headmistress," I drawl. "Trying to get your employees drunk so early in the day? One might think you are... up to something."

"I know very well you don't get drunk off one drink," she smirks, pouring a generous amount in both. "What you do after we share a single drink is not my business. But stop being so snotty and toast with me." I take the proffered tumbler as she says, "To you, Severus. May you continue to cheat death the way your students try to cheat on exams, so that you may have many more birthdays to come."

A snort escapes me. "With a toast like that, I'll make sure to come up with an extra special one for your next birthday. Maybe something along the lines of, 'May your next three hundred birthdays be as wonderful as the last three hundred.'"

Minerva chokes a cough down. "Severus! Really?" She scowls for a moment, but then breaks into a hearty laugh. "I suppose if anyone knows about aging gracefully, it would be you. Tell me, what was it like to have Merlin as a dorm mate?"

We both chuckle at our back and forth banter before easing into a comfortable chat.

"So, it seems you've had a pleasant holiday," she comments casually. "I noticed you and your wife spent New Year's Eve at the Malfoy's."

"Is there a supposed to be a question somewhere in there?"

"How are the two of you doing?"

"You sure are nosey," I retort. "It'll take far more than one drink for me to spill my secrets to you." She gives me a pointed look, so I relent. "We are fine. Things seem to be working better. I just hope-"

Before I can finish my thought a silvery imitation of a hawk swoops through the door. Minerva and I exchange curious looks as it opens its mouth to emulate the voice of Poppy Pomfrey.

"Severus! I need you in the infirmary now! It's your wife!"

The hawks flapped fervently before swooping out from whence it came. Minerva frowns and raises a single eyebrow at me.

I feel my heart drop to my bowels as I down the last of my drink.

"Severus? You look like you are about to faint-"

"She's pregnant," I blurt out. I stand so quickly, papers fly off my desk in every direction. As I start out the door, Minerva grabs my arm. I try to pull my arm out of hand, but she holds firmly.

"Trust me," she interrupts as I start to argue. The pull of apparition pulls me so quickly, it takes me a second to remember the Headmaster or Headmistress has that power on the grounds. We land in Poppy's office without a single crack, but she still flinches in surprise of our sudden appearance.

"What happened?" I blurt out.

"That was quick. Why don't you take a seat-"

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Severus! Sit!" Minerva barks. I start to push past her, but she gives me a warning look.

"What happened?" I repeat in a calmer voice, still refusing to sit. Poppy presses her lips together as she looks cautiously between Minerva and I. "The Headmistress already knows," I state irritably, "Now, if I have to ask again, Poppy, I will hex you into-"

"She miscarried," Poppy cuts me off in a loud voice. Minerva lets out a small gasp and I'm sure my mouth hangs open like a gaping codfish.

The silence in the room is stifling as my mouth goes dry and my knees go weak. I knew from moment I saw her patronus, but hearing her say the words made it all real. Minerva places a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off.

"What do you mean she miscarried?" I demand. "You said she was perfectly fine two days ago! You said the baby was perfectly healthy! How did this happen?"

"And she was healthy," Poppy agrees, "But you know as well as I do that magical pregnancies are unpredictable and unstable in every sense of the word. She was taking her prenatal potions and gaining her weight and her strength back. There is no reason this should have happened, except that it was just not meant to be this time."

A deep sigh escapes me as I rub my face. It sounds stupid, but all I can ask is, "So, what now?"

"I would advise she stay here overnight so I can monitor her vitals. She was extremely distraught over the news, so I gave her a calming potion. Her friend, the former Miss Granger, is with her now."

Minerva lets out a heavy sigh as I finally sink into the chair. "Take a minute," Minerva suggests. "Then go to your wife. She needs you right now more than ever, but she needs you calm and collected."

I look at Poppy for confirmation, but she just shrugs. "As a medical professional, I am bound by law to inform you of her situation. But as your friend, I agree with Minerva that you should be with her. Even if she tries to throw you out," she adds wryly.

Nodding absently, I stand and start for the door. Minerva stops me short and in a low voice whispers, "I'm so sorry." She places her hand on my shoulder again, but I don't attempt to shrug it off this time. For some reason, it is comforting now. With a gentle squeeze, she exits ahead of me and leaves the hospital wing in silent reverence.

The hospital wing is empty, save for the single curtained off section at the end of the room. Knowing Ginevra and her friend are there, I take a deep breath and start the longest walk of my life.

* * *

My breathing has finally calmed into the slow rise and fall of exhaustion. Even though, I am facing the wall, I know Hermione is sitting behind me running a brush through my tangled locks.

"When I was little," she had said as soon as we were alone, "my mom use to brush my hair when I was having a terrible day. I don't know why it helps, but just tell me if you want me to stop." Of course, I didn't want to start crying again, so I just didn't answer. She transfigured a brush and hasn't stopped yet.

I don't know if it is the brushing or the calming draught, but I do feel better. No, not really better. Just empty. And tired. Numb. Like nothingness.

There is a rustle of the curtain and Hermione stops for a moment. My heart stops as I hear my husband ask, "Ginevra?"

The tears well up in my eyes, so I pull the blankets over my face, hoping he won't force me to face him. From behind me, I can feel the Hermione move away.

"Professor," she greets. He must have nodded because she just continues on, "I'll give you two some space." I want to stop her, but I can't find the strength to roll over. I also know that if I roll over, the tears will start all over again, so I stay put.

The curtain rustles again and I know I'm alone with him as Hermione's footsteps fade away. I strain my ears to figure out where he is, but his stealth movements don't give away his position. I have no idea if he is standing or sitting, scowling or blank faced, angry or expressionless.

The silence stretches on and I wait for something. Anything to give me hint about what is coming next. Just when I am about to give up, there is another rustle of fabric. I start to believe he left, but then the bed dips behind me as he gently pulls the sheet off my face to just beneath my chin.

Instead of just sitting next to me, I feel his body stretch the length of mine over the covers as his arm slips around my waist and places his hand over my own balled up fist next to my chest. I've hardly hugged him, but him spooning my backside feels like the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his body wraps me like a soothing cocoon and his heartbeat on my back releases the tension in my shoulders.

All the tears I have been holding back since he walked in finally release in a single, painful sob. He doesn't ask anything. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even try to whisper false reassurances to me. He just holds me and lets me cry until sleep finally consumes my exhausted mind and body.


	38. Chapter 38

My eyes snap open, but it is pitch black. It takes a second for me to remember exactly where I am, why there is a girl buried in my arms, and how I got here to begin with. As it all comes back, so does the realization that my arm is asleep and my back is aching from the awkward angle of staying balanced on the hospital bed.

Carefully, I remove my arm from under Ginevra's head, but she doesn't even flinch as I shift my weight off the the bed. Exhaling as quietly as I can, I shake out my arm of the prickling needle sensation and stretch the rest of my stiff muscles out. Rubbing my face tiredly, I start to exit the curtained room and nearly run into Poppy.

She is always dressed in her healer robes, but her shoes have been replaced by soft fuzzy slippers. I realize she must have had an alarm on the room to alert her if Ginevra woke. I start to wave her off, but she puts a finger to her lips and motions towards her office, inviting me in.

"What time is it?" I ask once we finally make it inside.

"Nearly eleven," she says in a low voice, flicking her wand to shut the door and turn on the lights. She pushes a tray of food on her desk towards me. "I figured it best not to disturb either of you, but I had the house elves deliver some food in case you woke."

As I suddenly realize how famished I am, I throw her a grateful smile and take a seat in the empty chair. "Thank you. I assume that also means that Ginevra's vitals are still stable."

She nods. "I have no reason not to release her into your care come morning. But Severus," she says hesitantly, "I didn't want to say anything earlier with the Headmistress around but I have to tell you I am going to have to send the ministry an official report of what happened."

Her voice is shaky with nerves, but I am don't understand why. "And?" I ask.

She presses her lips and makes an uncomfortable face. "Severus, I'm really sorry. I really am," she says quickly, "but the report is very thorough and I had to make sure there wasn't detail I missed in her last exam or the Ministry could accuse me of negligence or assisting in termination of a pregnancy-"

"So, you missed something?" The food in my mouth suddenly feels like sand.

"No," she rubs her forehead tiredly. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. "In my tests, I discovered the makeup of the baby's magical core. And I have treated you enough times to recognize your signature as well as any spell. The baby, well…" she looks at me to finish, but I stare back blankly and wait. Poppy drops her eyes and says in a low voice, "The child was not yours."

"Oh, " I clear my throat, trying to look surprised. "I see. Well, that is… unfortunate."

Poppy shakes her head and blinks several times as if I've just told her Lord Voldemort sent me a birthday card. Realizing she is looking for a more emotional reaction, I frown with faux anger.

"Unfortunate?" Poppy repeats. "Unfortunate? That's all you have to say?"

Seeing that she isn't buying into my ruse, I try shifting to shock and add, "You are sure?"

Then her eyes widen in fury and her voice rises as a realization comes to her. "You know already don't you? All night I've been sitting in here trying to figure out how to tell you and you already knew? You are a right bastard!"

"Do not presume what I did or did not know!" I hiss back, casting a Muffliato spell on the room. She lets out a frustrated huff as I explain, "Yes, I suspected, but Ginevra has no idea." Poppy starts to speak, but I cut her off in a loud voice saying, "And unless you are telling me that you are going to tell her or the ministry, then it's no one's business how it happened, how I know, or how I feel about it."

"Severus," she sighs, "you know I would never pry into your personal life and that I have the good sense to not even question why on earth you would choose to keep this kind of secret from your own wife. However, I don't think you understand what this is going to do to her."

"She has already made one mistake by sleeping with someone else. Why should I continue to punish her by revealing she has been carrying around the evidence since then?" I practically shout. Poppy looks momentarily stunned.

"Because she is going to blame herself for the miscarriage," she insists. "If you continue to let her think that baby is yours, not only will she feel guilty for something she has no control over, but she'll also feel like she disappointed you as well."

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap. "She'll be more concerned about what the ministry will do to her. Furthermore, the loss of a child will be difficult enough for her to handle. But if you think she'll be concerned with disappointing me, you must have lost your damned mind."

"I can assure you, my mind is as right as ever," she rolls her eyes. "However, a woman's mind is a complex thing. There is no telling how your wife is going to deal with this, but I can tell you that withholding information from her is not going to help. Women who miscarry need to mourn the loss. Don't you think she will figure out that you will not be mourning?"

"I wouldn't shed a tear if the child was mine anyway," I argue. "Neither of us wanted the child, but we didn't have a choice. Once she gets past the shock, she'll be happy it happened," I reason.

Another frustrated sigh escapes her. "Do not presume to know," Poppy repeats my words back to me, "how she will deal with this. Every woman deals with miscarriage differently and there is no telling how she will. I'm not trying to tell you what will happen. I'm just saying that you need to be prepared for the the possibility that continuing to hold this secret will do her more harm than good."

"I will take your advice into consideration," I state unemotionally. "Can I at least presume you will use your discretion for now?"

"You are impossible," she mutters with a shake of her head. I raise my eyebrows expectantly, so she rolls her eyes again. "You know that as her husband, you have every right to have me withhold information from her."

"But I am asking you as a friend," I reply. She looks suspicious, so I add, "Please?"

She stares at me long and hard, obviously debating the pros and cons of what I am asking her. Finally, she let out a tired sigh and gives in with a nod of her head. "Don't make me regret this promise, Severus."

"I don't intend to."

* * *

A groan escapes me as I pry my eyes open. The room is bright and white, unlike my own in the dungeons. It takes a minute for me to realize where I am and then the horror from a previous day comes flooding back. But before the tears can well up in my eyes, a voice comes from behind me.

"Ginevra?"

Rolling to my other side, I spot Severus sitting next to the bed, setting the book he was reading on a nearby table and leaning forward slightly. Next to him, a tray of breakfast floats lazily.

"How are you feeling?"

His simple question catches me off guard. For a minute, I start to believe that I imagined falling asleep in his arms. I glance down at the rumpled hospital bed, but then spot a single black hair on my pillow and know it wasn't a dream.

To keep myself from breaking down, I blurt out, "My head hurts. And I'm tired."

"Here," he hands me a potion. "For your head." I down the potion and feel the pressure from behind my puffy eyes recede. As I hand the vial back, he hands floats the tray to me. "You should eat."

"I'm not hungry," I say, laying back down. "I just want to go back to my room."

"Ginevra," he presses gently, "I know you don't want to eat, but Poppy won't release you from the infirmary unless you are healthy enough. You don't have to eat all of it, but since you missed dinner, you should eat some breakfast. Please?"

As much as I want to argue, I can see his point, so I just nod in agreement. It isn't until I take the first bite that I realize he just said "please". It forces me to focus on his kindness rather than my emotional turmoil.

"Would you like some?" I gesture to the tray.

"I ate while you were still asleep," he explains.

"Oh," is all I can come up with. I start to wonder if he is going to watch me eat. As if I said it outloud, he saves me from his probing eyes as he picks the book back up off the table and begins to read again. Relieved, I pick at a slice of toast and sip the orange juice in silence. Hogwarts toast is always perfect, today it just tastes bland. Even the fresh squeezed juice is unappetizing, but I force myself to trudge on.

When I finish my last bite, Madam Pomfrey pushes open the curtained door. "Good morning," she greets. I expect her to ask me how I am, but she just walks over and begins waving her wand in series of tests.

Severus sits still, concentrating on Madam Pomfrey's movements. After a moment, his eyes lock on mine and his expression softens. Something about his whole demeanor makes me feel overwhelmed. Finally, I can't hold it in any longer and let out a sob.

"Ginevra?" he asks, his voice slightly rising in concern. It just makes me cry harder.

"There, there," Madam Pomfrey pats my back. I try to calm down, but it is no use so she just continues on gently. "I know this is hard, but I just need to ask you a few questions. Okay?" I nod, but the tears continue to flow.

She sighs and asks, "Are you in any pain at the moment?" I shake my head to say no.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"She had breakfast," Severus cuts in with a wave of his hand to the still nearly full tray.

Madam Pomfrey looks presses her lips like she wants to argue, but instead asks, "Do you have any other symptoms? Headache? Tenderness?"

"My wife is tired," he answers again in an even louder voice. He sounds like he is losing his patience, but his face remains masked as he says, "I believe it would be best if she come back home. You have my word that I will send a Patronus if her condition worsens."

She looks from Severus to me and back again with a doubtful look, but then shrugs. "Very well then. She will be excused from classes for the next week, but I want to see her back before she resumes for a final check up. Understood?" We nod our heads and I start to slide off the bed. "Severus, why don't you two take the Floo in my office?"

"Thank you, Poppy," he says with a hint of sincerity. He pulls off his outer teaching robe and drapes is around my shoulders before leading me out of the curtained room and into Madam Pomfrey's office.

* * *

Ginevra goes through first and I follow. For a moment, she just stands in the living area, looking lost and forlorn. Gently, I place a hand on her back and push her towards the hallway.

The hallway seems unnaturally long as her slippered feet pad along softly. Her head is bowed and I can see her tears have briefly stopped. I know she is fighting them back.

We reach her door and she pushes through, trying to slip in, but I push it open and walk her the rest of the way to the bed. Instead of fighting me, she lets me take my robe back and pull the blanket back for her. It is like watching a ghost move as she slides between the sheets and lays down. I whisper a warming spell and pull the thicker blanket up to her chin. Reaching in my pocket, I pull three vials out and set them on the nightstand.

"Painkiller, vitamins, fluid replenishment," I point to each respectively. Her blank stare doesn't waver from the spot past me on the wall, so I say, "Sleep well." I turn to leave, but her hand reaches out and grabs my wrist.

She doesn't say anything, but I can see there is something on her mind. I know she wants to say something, but her jaw is locked in silence. Instead, I summon a chair from the corner of her room and settle in.

"Why don't I stay until you fall asleep?" I suggest. There is the smallest hint of a nod as her eyes close and I let her hold my hand like a child would a stuffed animal.

I stay until she falls asleep yet again.

* * *

I know I should get up, but I can't. It has been hours since I got home and I've done nothing but sleep. However, my body just doesn't feel like moving.

My head hurts. My eyes hurt. My heart hurts.

I just want to crawl into a hole and never wake up again.

And it makes no sense. I didn't want to be pregnant. I should be happy that it's over.

But instead, I feel guilty. It is my fault this happened. I should have eaten properly. I shouldn't have gone to Quidditch practice. There is so much I did wrong.

And then there is Severus.

He hasn't said anything about it.

In fact, he hasn't said much. He wasn't around when I woke up, but he left some lunch next to my bed.

I didn't eat.

Later, I could hear him sigh when he saw the food untouched, but he didn't comment on it. He checked my temperature while I pretended to be asleep. After he left, I just stayed where I was. I could hear him checking on me every so often, but I just pretended to sleep still. I thought at some point he would try to force me out of bed or something, but even when he brought me dinner, he didn't say anything.

He seems to be indifferent when he speaks though. He'll tell me there is food or that I have to take a potion prescribed by Madam Pomfrey, but there is no tone behind his voice. It is civil, straight, and not what I expected. I can't tell if he is holding back his anger or disappointment or what. It is like he is waiting until the right moment to finally yell at me.

And I wish he would go ahead and do it. Just get it over with. Yell at me, mock me, tell me how childish I'm being or that I deserve what happened. Anything.

Maybe then I'll be able to feel something.

I just want to feel again.

* * *

Minerva looks surprised as she opens the door. "Severus?"

"Up for a game of chess?"

She simply nods and steps aside. Drinks appear before I finish taking my seat. It is almost like she was expecting me because the game is already set up.

"Poppy said she released her this morning," she says quietly. "How is she feeling?"

I shrug. "She slept most of the day. Except for the times I practically forced her to take a bite or two to eat, she didn't say much." Before Minerva can reprimand me, I add, "Yes, I am keeping a close eye on her."

"I was going to say that maybe you should take the week off as well," she says.

"But it's the first week-"

"And nothing that you can't miss," she cuts me off. "I may not be a Potions Master, but I can teach for a week."

"It's not that simple," I reply. "She doesn't want to talk. And even if she did, wouldn't it be better for her to speak to someone like you or Molly."

"At some point, yes," she admits, "but at the moment, she needs you. It was your child too."

"It wasn't," I confess. "It was Potter's."

As stoic as Minerva is, she fails to hide her gasp. "Are you sure?"

"Poppy confirmed it."

"Oh, Severus. I'm so-"

"Don't," I stop her, "please, just don't. Save your sympathy for her. I don't deserve it."

"Because you are glad this happened?"

"Minerva," I warn, but she waves her hand and explains.

"No, I don't mean that you are glad she suffered. I mean you are relieved that she isn't going to have his child. I know you are not cold hearted enough to wish something like this on your own wife, but I can imagine it does make things easier. Am I right?"

I hate to admit it, but I nod. She sighs heavily as I say, "Go ahead. Say it."

Instead of berating me, she just gives me a small smile. "It doesn't make you a bad person."

"Actually, it does."

"No, it makes you human," she points out. "Your relationship has been an uphill battle since day one. However, you are learning. She is learning. Both of you are trying the best you can."

"My best is not good enough," I snap. "She is miserable right now and I don't know how to help her. I don't know what to say or do. This isn't something I understand."

As if the thought suddenly strikes her, she asks, "She didn't know it wasn't yours, did she?" I nod my head to confirm. She sighs. "Well, at least you are trying to understand. I can't say that you would have done that much six months ago."

"A lot has happened in six months," I say, as if that is a good explanation. Then add under my breath, "What I wouldn't give for a time-turner."

"You and me both," Minerva replies dryly. "But since we don't have one, I guess you'll just have to find another solution." We sit a moment in silence, mulling over our chess moves back and forth. "Perhaps you should call her mother? Molly knows what it's like to lose a child."

"Molly is still grieving over her son," I reply. "Do you really think it is wise to bring one broken woman to fix another?"

"I can see what you mean," she nods. "Then I suggest giving your wife time to grieve in private and patiently wait for her to open up to you. If you can't get her to open up or are still worried, then maybe you should have the former Miss Granger visit when she returns from London in a couple of days."

I think it over. Minerva makes a good point. Ginevra has barely been back twelve hours, so what can I really expect? Me spending the night with her probably kept her from grieving properly. I would not want to show weakness to her, so why would she feel like she can be vulnerable around me? I am trying to make things better, but I can't erase the past so easily.

"That seems to be the only option I have," I concede.

"I know," she says. "And I'm sorry for that. But she'll get past this. You both will. You just need to be patient."

"A virtue I have never struggled with until six months ago," I mutter.

Minerva has some remark on the tip of her tongue, but she says nothing. Instead, she smiles wryly and captures my first piece.

The first in a long night of chess.


End file.
